


Haikyuu X Hospital AU - Something about you - ShiraSemi

by SwimminNnoodles



Category: Haikyuu!!, ハイパープロジェクション演劇「ハイキュー!!」| Hyper Projection Play "Haikyuu!!" RPF
Genre: Doctor AU, Haikyuu - Freeform, Haikyuu Rare Pair, Hospital, M/M, SemiShira - Freeform, Surgeons, haikyuu au, shirasemi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwimminNnoodles/pseuds/SwimminNnoodles
Summary: Haikyuu Hospital AU where the Haikyuu characters are now surgeons. The work resembles Shonda Rhime’s medical series Grey’s Anatomy. Enjoy lots of drama and ships.Semi Eita is a neuro surgery attending at Miyagi Central Hospital when he suddenly finds himself falling for a bitter, short-tempered resident who is also incredibly attractive.





	1. Not a Hot Blonde

**Author's Note:**

> I have never been to med-school, nor do I have time to do a ton of research so I apologize if not all of the medical stuff is accurate. So please just roll with it and enjoy :)
> 
>  
> 
> Also if you want to leave a comment at the bottom, that would be much appreciated!!!

“Can someone tell radiology to hurry the hell up?” Semi leaned against the wall, looking down the long line of patients streaming out of the MRI room. 

“The other machine is broken so everyone’s using this one.” Sighed Shirabu. “But honestly it can take as long as it wants,” he added quietly. 

“What was that?” Semi looked over at his resident, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nothing,” Shirabu sighed. 

“He’s talking about ditching the date I set up for him tonight,” Yahaba interrupted as he turned around from his own patient in line. “Who, might I add, is a perfectly nice person. And it won’t kill you to go on just one dinner date Kenjiro!”

Shirabu rolled his eyes. It was bad enough that Yahaba had to talk about his inexistent dating life in front of his attending. He glanced up at Semi, who much to Shirabu’s discomfort, looked interested. Even his patient, awkwardly lying in the bed, looked enticed.

* **

 

“So,” Semi said, his voice was even, with a hint of tease in it. “Hot date tonight huh?” He didn’t look up from the operating table, but Shirabu could easily imagine the smirk underneath his surgical mask. 

“It was Yahaba’s idea.” Shirabu sighed, “and frankly, I’m not looking forward to it.”

He kept his eyes on the patient’s brain, praying that his own scrub cap and surgical mask would hide the blush that had taken over his cheeks and ears. “I don’t even know who it is.”

“Ah, a blind date.” Semi continued to navigate the surgical probe through his patient’s brain, “with your pretty face I bet she’ll be a tall, hot blonde.” 

This time he looked up from the patient at Shirabu. The operating room was silent except for the steady beeping of the monitors and the quiet hiss of the ventilator. Shirabu felt even more uncomfortable, his eyes glued to his patient. Normally he’d snap at whoever would label his face as “pretty”, but Semi was his attending, which meant he was his teacher  and  his boss, so he held his tongue instead. 

“Although.” Semi continued, “you might want to change that salty attitude of yours. At least for one night.” 

The tease in his voice was much stronger now, even though Shirabu couldn’t see the lift in his cheeks. He felt everyone in the operating room’s eyes on him, and even heard a scrub nurse snicker. He gripped the surgical instrument tighter between his fingers, and awkwardly stared down at the patients open brain; which, should really be what everyone is focusing on. 

“Maybe it would be best to switch the center of attention to Mr. Okado’s open brain..” he trailed off, his voice brimming with embarrassment. He added quietly, “away from my dating status Dr. Semi.”

Semi noticed how flustered he had made his resident, and the smirk under his surgical mask was replaced with curiosity. 

“Alright.” Semi’s voice softened. “I’ve evacuated the hematoma from the parietal lobe, what post-op complications should we look out for?” 

“Paralysis and numbness.” Shirabu replied. He could still feel the eyes of all the scrub nurses and anesthesiologists on him. He hated when everyone was looking at him—it made him feel vulnerable and exposed. 

“Excellent,” Semi said. “See? You are more than just a pretty face.”

Shirabu couldn’t stop himself from shooting Semi a dirty look; which Semi caught. 

“Sorry,” Semi mumbled.

 

***

 

After the surgery, Shirabu found himself left alone with Semi in the scrub room. The room was dimly lit, only a small fluorescent glow coming from behind them. The operating room was dark—they scrubbed in silence. The silence was horribly uncomfortable, until Semi broke it, which made it almost unbearable. 

“You know,” he started, “you are good looking. Its a shame someone who looks like you is so unavailable. Dating wise I mean.”

Shirabu rolled his eyes. “Yeah well, in comparison to those of the “oh so beautiful” Dr. Semi Eita, my looks are nothing.” He retorted avoiding answering the question. He half expected his attending to scold him for his sarcastic remark, but instead Semi started laughing. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“You know I thought that being extremely attractive was some sort of requirement for neurosurgeons at this hospital.” Shirabu giggled, a small bubbly laugh that made his mouth curl in to a smile. Semi couldn’t help but notice how much it contrasted the resident’s personality.

At least the personality he lets people see.  Semi thought to himself. 

“What?” Semi laughed.

“Between you and Dr. Oikawa, the appearance standards for brain surgeons around here are extremely high.” Shirabu stated as he dried his hands. For a moment the two of them stood there laughing, completely comfortable with one another. It was as if they’d been best friends for ages. Shirabu glanced at the clock above the door, and the laughter in his voice faded. “I guess I, um, have to get going now.”

“Right,” Semi sighed, his voice audibly loosing its laughter as he realized their giddy moment had come to an end. Just as Shirabu opened the door he added, “Oh and Shirabu.” 

“Yeah?” Shirabu turned, his normally pristine dusty brown hair messy after he pulled off his scrub cap. His eyes met Semi’s, who paused before speaking again. 

“Have fun with your hot blonde.” Semi didn’t say what he wanted to, and silently scolded himself for saying something lame instead. 

“Thanks.” 

 

** * 

 

Semi sat alone, staring at the many computer screens in front if him. He’d been staring at the same tumor for a week, but he still hadn’t figured out a way to take it out. The lights of the room were dim, so the only glow came from the computer screens and MRIs. He slowly tapped his pen on the desk, running his tongue along his teeth the way he normally did when he concentrated. It was late, and Semi was relived to finally have some peace and quiet to spend time with his eyes glued to one of the most impossible tumors he’s ever seen. He’d been bombarded with work all day, being trailed by scalpel-hungry interns and, of course, smart-mouthed residents. Semi was exhausted, all of his energy had been sucked out of him along with his ability to stomach any more coffee. He wanted to crawl into his bed and sleep, except his small, empty apartment was probably the last place he wanted to be right now. 

 

“Um, Dr. Semi?” 

Semi turned at the sound of Shirabu’s voice in the doorway. He checked his watch. Shirabu should be sitting in a fancy restaurant somewhere, with a beautiful woman sitting across him. Semi thought about how any woman could be strung along by those deep brown eyes, or his hair that looked lighter than air. It wasn’t until Shirabu cleared his throat that Semi noticed he had been staring. 

“Uh, yeah?”

Shirabu looked flustered, his cheeks and the tips of his ears were burning bright red. He wouldn’t make direct eye contact, and kept awkwardly looking at his shoes or the wall. He stood there for a moment, opening his mouth to say something, then closing it again. The flush of pink on his face drew out the anticipation Semi felt churning in his stomach. Semi looked at his expectantly, urging himself to be more patient than he was feeling. 

 

“It was a guy.” Shirabu finally uttered.

“What?” 

“My date,” Shirabu said, the vulnerability in his hushed voice slowly seeping through. “My date was not with some tall blonde woman. It was with a man because I date men. And I don’t know if he was tall or blonde because he stood me up. So it doesn’t matter anyways.”

“Oh.” Semi’s voice was soft and probably sounded a little confused. His head was scrambled. After Shirabu’s outburst he felt like the breath had been sucked out of his lungs. Standing there looking vulnerable, only made Shirabu more attractive. Semi could almost feel the sensitivity in Shirabu’s nervous tone and awkward posture. Semi noticed how it contrasted the way the salty resident normally presented himself—he was short with his interns, obedient to his attendings, and most of all he was very, very bright.

 

“I just thought you should know.” Shirabu turned around to leave but Semi’s words spilled out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think about what he’d say. He was too drawn in by Shirabu dressed in clothes other than scrubs. It was strange, Semi’s worked with him since Shirabu was just an intern, and yet he’s never seen him dressed in anything but the light blue surgical scrubs the residents and interns always wore. The way his tan khaki pants and navy button-down fitted his tiny waist made Semi’s heart pound.

“I have a tumor.” Semi blurted.

“What?” The concerned look on Shirabu’s face brought light to the deception of what Semi had actually said.

“Not me,” he quickly added. “My patient. And I can’t figure out how to take it out without either killing her or ruining her quality of life.”

“Oh,” Shirabu lingered in the doorway.

 

“I was going to steal Dr. Oikawa’s resident but you, um, you’re good at neuro. I know you’re more interested in cardio, but uh, if you want, you can take a look at the scans... with me.” Semi said. For the entirety of the unusually awkward conversation, Semi couldn’t bring himself to look away from the resident in the doorway. He noticed his soft, tawny hair and how his bangs seemed to be the epitome of perfect. His eyes were drawn to Shirabu’s big, dark brown eyes and his stupidly clear skin. And in his mind, he found himself tracing Shirabu’s incredibly thin figure. 

“I’d love to be on the case.” Shirabu’s voice brought him back to reality. He walked over and sat down at the desk beside Semi. 

“Wow,” Shirabu’s voice was breathy, he leaned in, his eyes drawn to the scans. “Is that a butterfly tumor?” The utter curiosity in his voice replaced the slight disappointment that had been there earlier. 

“Yeah. It’s a grade IV astrocytoma. She’s been to five other doctors and they’ve all declared it inoperable. But my patient is a new mother and is willing to risk it, so I’d like to try.” Semi and Shirabu had both been staring at the scans; neither noticed how their faces had been gradually gravitating towards each other.

“She uh—she came to the right place,” Shirabu almost whispered.

 

They sat there for hours, staring at the scan. Occasionally Semi would mutter something to himself or one of them would make a suggestion. After a while Semi didn’t even know what time it was. He was tired, and with Shirabu sitting so close to him, it was messing with his head.

 

“It’s spread into both sides of the brain. How is it even possible to get clean margins?” By now Shirabu’s voice was barely a whisper and the way he was gently breathing on his neck sent shivers down Semi’s spine. 

“Yeah...” Semi slowly turned to face Shirabu. The lights seemed even dimmer now that their faces were inches apart. 

Shirabu’s gaze drifted from Semi’s charcoal eyes down to his soft, pale lips. Semi slowly ran his tongue along the edges of his teeth as he fell deeper into Shirabu’s gaze. It was like there was some invisible force pulling them towards each other—they inched closer until Semi’s lips were just hovering over Shirabu’s. Neither of them said a word, lips slightly parted and eyes half closed. Semi slowly grazed his hand along Shirabu’s cheek bone until he held his face. His fingertips slid through Shirabu’s silky hair, which was even softer than it looked. Shirabu swallowed. Only minutes had gone by but it felt as if they’d been sucked into some alternate reality. Nothing but the two of them mattered, not even time. As they drew closer their noses brushed, and Semi could almost hear Shirabu’s steady heartbeat.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu could feel his own heartbeat, and for some odd reason it was slow and steady. For some odd reason he didn’t feel immensely uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to bolt out of the room. Normally Shirabu was incredibly awkward when it came to unplanned romantic situations. And this right here, he should have ran out the door several minutes ago. Semi Eita, his boss who he had never taken any romantic interest in until that day was inches away from his face. And for some reason Shirabu was not nervous or uncomfortable in the slightest. 

 

***

 

Finally, the two surgeons gave into the steady persuasion of soft lips and fingertips. Their lips met and the world around them fell away. Semi had never felt softer lips in his life as he gently grazed his own over Shirabu’s. With his eyes closed he desperately sought for Shirabu with his other senses; he breathed in the warm scent of his hair, ran his thumb along the smooth skin along Shirabu’s jaw, and listened to the faint sound of his breath. The kiss was long and gentle, time seemed to stop just before they pulled away. 

Semi slowly opened his eyes, keeping his face just inches away from Shirabu’s so the smell of his skin lingered.

Shirabu spoke first, “I’m sorry....” His voice was merely a whisper and slightly shaky. 

The tough guard that Shirabu had always put up around others had faded, and beneath it Semi found him beautiful and vulnerable. “This—this is a bad idea.” Shirabu got up. He walked to the door and turned, his hand just resting on the handle. “I’ll um,” he stuttered, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then he left Semi sitting alone in the dark once again. 


	2. Broken Glass, Broken Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their surprising encounter last night, Shirabu’s surgical skills are put to the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome back. I hope you enjoyed the last chapter. Again, I’m not a doctor of any kind so please excuse any incorrect medical information. Enjoy chapter two :)

“Where the hell were you?” The voice came from the stairs and made Shirabu cringe when he attempted to sneak into the house. Shirabu’s roommate sat on the steps, his arms crossed. 

“Um, the hospital...” Shirabu slowly shut the door behind him, he really just wanted to go to bed.

“You weren’t on call. And you weren’t in any surgeries either,” Yahaba cleared his throat and stood up as Shirabu tried to walk past him up the stairs. “Kenjiro, It’s 3am!”

“I told you I was at the hospital,” he snapped. 

“Okay, jeez.” Yahaba stepped aside and Shirabu began to storm up the stairs. 

“Kenjiro,” Yahaba sighed which made Shirabu turn. Yahaba recrossed his arms. “You gonna tell me what’s up with the attitude?” 

Shirabu huffed, “it’s nothing.” 

He shuffled the rest of the way up the stairs and quietly slammed his bedroom door behind him. 

 

He flopped onto his bed, and soon enough the night’s events caught up with him. Shirabu buried his face in his pillow and groaned. If it hadn’t been 3 in the morning he probably would’ve screamed his head off. Because after he, for some reason, kissed his attending—and liked it—he really wanted to scream. He wanted to scream at himself, at his date who stood him up, at Semi for being too damn hot , and at the universe in general. But he would probably wake up Noya, and be chastised by Yahaba. 

So instead he lay on his bed, his hands over his face, with the taste of Semi Eita’s lips lingering on his own. 

 

“G’dmornin’” Noya yawned as he shuffled into the kitchen. He slid onto a stool and lazily reached for his coffee, which Shirabu casually slid it into his hand as he took a sip of his own. It was funny how high energy Noya became after his morning coffee. Sometimes he could work 27 hour shifts without a single nap. Shirabu didn’t understand how someone could have so much energy. 

“You came home late last night,” Noya raised his eyebrow as he glanced at Shirabu over the coffee mug. 

“It’s nothing,” Shirabu sighed as he rolled his eyes. 

“It’s not nothing because your ears are red,” Noya said, “you know for such a closed off person you aren’t very good at lying. I heard the date Shigeru set up didn’t work so who were you with last night? Do I know him?” 

“I told you it isn’t anybody,” Shirabu took a big sip of coffee just as Yahaba came down the stairs. 

“Noya will you start the car please? I want first assist on Dr. Oikawa’s craniotomy, so we have to leave now.” 

Shirabu looked up from his coffee. 

“Dr. Oikawa has a craniotomy?” Shirabu asked, thinking about the case that Semi had invited him onto. If Shirabu had to spend hours in an operating room with Shirabu and Semi, his kiss with a neuro surgeon would not remain a secret. Not that having Dr. Oikawa in the same OR would help. Yahaba’s godly mentor would make Shirabu’s pathetic dating life look like absolute shit. Dr. Oikawa Tooru with his perfect hair and his perfect relationship with his hot trauma surgeon boyfriend, not to mention his perfect career. Shirabu wished his life was as put together as the pretty neurosurgeon. Shirabu didn’t need the perfectness hanging over him as Yahaba discovered the embarrassing details of last night. 

“Yeah,” Yahaba grabbed his coat as they walked out the door and met Noya in the car. “She’s a new mother too so it’s sad, but I think Oikawa and Semi will be able to take it out.”

Shirabu was silent the whole rest of the car ride. 

 

When they got to the hospital Shirabu found himself subconsciously searching for Semi. He tried to get himself to stop. To focus. 

“Shirabu?” For some reason Kenjiro couldn’t bring himself to stop staring down the hall. “Dr. Shirabu?”

He suddenly snapped back to his senses. His attending stood in front of him, waving a hand in front of Shirabu’s face as if he were just some lifeless shell. 

“I’ve got a huge cardio trauma coming in Shirabu and I can’t have you acting so distracted,” Tendou said.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry.”

Just the words ‘cardio’ and ‘trauma’ were more than enough to boost Shirabu’s mood. As a second year resident Shirabu has taken a special interest in cardio—he loved the feeling of a live beating heart in his hands. 

“Let’s go.”

Shirabu followed the head of cardiothorastic surgery down to the ER. 

 

“Alright what do we have?” Tendou swooped into the trauma room, slipping his hands into the elastic surgical gloves. Three attendings and two interns stood around the patient. The first, obviously, was Dr. Iwaizumi Hajime, Head of trauma surgery. He barked orders to every doctor in the room as he frantically tried to control the overwhelming bleeding of his patient. “MVC, he’s got a distended abdomen, several fractures, and..” he trailed off just as Shirabu began to wonder why Dr. Tendou was paged, an intern stepped out of the way to reveal a massive shard of glass lodged in the man’s chest. “..obvious cardiac trauma..” Iwaizumi finished. 

“Woah,” Shirabu whispered, mostly to himself.

“Alright we’re gonna need to get chest films before we even think about taking that out.” Tendou joined the large corral of doctors and Shirabu did his best to follow.

“He’s got a huge head lac,” an intern said, “I think we should get neuro.”

“I’ll page Dr. Oikawa,” an intern announced.

“He’s in a surgery. Page Dr. Semi,” Iwaizumi said as he shuffled around other doctors to examine the large laceration on the side of the patient’s head. It was covered in small shards of glass, and dark red blood was quickly spilling out from the cut. As Shirabu rolled the portable x-ray over to the patient’s side, he noticed the monitor sound.

“He’s getting hypotensive,” Shirabu announced as the monitor began to beep rapidly. 

“Alright push one of epi.”

“I’ve lost a pulse in the femoral artery, I need to reset his hip or he’ll lose this leg,” Bokuto, the chief of orthopedic surgery, motioned for the intern to move out of the way.

Bokuto got himself onto the gurney and positioned the patient’s leg to be realigned. Shirabu was so distracted getting films of the patient’s chest he didn’t notice when Semi came into the room. 

“The glass is just grazing the aorta,” Shirabu said as he showed the films to Dr. Tendou. He took the scans and held it up to the light.

“And what does that mean?” Tendou quizzed him.

“If we take it out right now he’ll bleed out in seconds.”

“Right. We need to get him to an OR.”

Shirabu spun around and found himself face-to-face with Semi. The room was crowded and chaotic so nobody noticed the two red-cheeked surgeons. 

“Uh, Sorry.” Shirabu shuffled to the side and let Semi stand by the patient. 

Semi took out his light pen and shined it in front of the patient’s eyes. He moved the light in and out of the eyes and sighed as he clicked off the light and pocketed it.

“His pupils are blown and unresponsive. I’m sorry but he’s brain dead.” 

The energy in the room seemed to fade almost completely. The interns innocently looked around, their chances of scrubbing in on a surgery crushed. Shirabu felt his own heart drop. He watched as Iwaizumi stormed out of the room, cursing quietly under his breath. Soon enough the room had cleared out, leaving Shirabu alone with the corpse. 

“Hey,” Semi poked his head back into the room. “He’s not a donor is he?”

“I don’t know,” Shirabu’s voice was quiet and distant. “But his heart wont last very long with the glass in it.” 

“Oh.” Semi opened his mouth to say something else but Tendou interrupted him when he came back in the room.

“Alrighty my teeny surgeon, turns out he is a donor so we need to ventilate him and get him into the OR.” Tendou always teased Shirabu, who endured it simply for the chance to study under a world renown cardiothorastic surgeon. 

“Teeny surgeon?” Semi asked Tendou.

“Yep. Because he’s a baby surgeon, a resident. And because he’s tiny—ya know, physically.” Tendou said, and then added slyly, “Semi-Semi.”

Semi scoffed before he turned and left the room.

The donors heart was completely useless. By the time the transplant surgeons had retrieved the other organs, the aorta had almost been completely severed by the glass. There was no saving it, and it definitely couldn’t be given to someone else. As Shirabu thought about the ineffective heart, somehow he thought of his own. 

The strange thought occurred to Shirabu as he recalled last night’s kiss. He definitely felt something—or at least he wanted to—but he couldn’t bring himself. He hated himself for it, and Yahaba always called him out whenever he would bring someone home then kick them out in the morning; hence the blind date Yahaba had attempted to set him up with.

It’s not that he didn’t want to be in an actual adult relationship, he didn’t think he’d mind it, he just couldn’t ever bring himself to trust anyone enough to get attached. So yeah, maybe the dead guy’s heart did resemble Shirabu’s emotional availability.

 

When the transplant was completed, Shirabu sat behind the desk in the cardio wing of the hospital. He poked around at a salad as he monitored all of Dr. Tendou and Dr. Hanamakki’s cardio patients. 

“Sometimes I hate this job.” Akaashi came out of nowhere, pulling a chair up next to Shirabu.

“Me too,” he replied.

“My patient is a sixteen year old who’s been living with a crap heart her entire life,” Akaashi sighed wearily. “She needs a heart soon or she won’t make it.”

Shirabu immediately thought of the wasted heart he had just operated on, sitting somewhere in the medical waste—useless. 

“And teenage years are supposedly the best years of your life,” Akaashi stayed, reaching over and stealing a chip from Shirabu’s lunch. 

“Supposedly?” The sudden interruption made Shirabu jump. Semi casually leaned on the desk, mimicking Akaashi as he too took one of Shirabu’s chips. 

“My teenage years sucked,” Akaashi blatantly said, completely missing how Shirabu had suddenly gone quiet. “I didn’t go out and do dumb things like the other kids.”

“Huh,” Semi was acting totally normal, as if the previous night hadn’t happened at all. “I loved Highschool, I was class president and prom king,” he grinned as he stole yet another of Shirabu’s chips. 

“Of course you were,” Shirabu mumbled.

“Oh? And what about you, i’d think that the son of a surgical genius like your mother would be pretty popular.”

“I wasn’t, and my mother was hell to live with,” Shirabu responded. “And stop eating my food.” 

“I’m an attending,” Semi asserted with a smirk, “I can eat your food whenever I want.”

 

 

There’s a lull, in the surgical wings, that happens right before a patient codes. A few moments of peace, where it seems like nobody was ever sick or injured in the first place. Surgeons are trained for disaster: quiet surgical boards make them uncomfortable, seamless surgeries make them suspicious. And the lull, puts them on edge. 

Shirabu might have noticed it—the lack of coughing, the perfectly steady rhythm of the monitors—if he hadn’t been so distracted watching Semi Eita snack on his food, the way his charcoal eyes shined when he smiled. 

 

Shirabu was instantly yanked out of his daydreaming when the monitor alarm blared out of a patient room down the hall.

“Dammit!” Shirabu cursed as he jumped out of his chair and skidded down the hall—Akaashi and Semi following behind him.

 

Tendou’s patient—post mitral valve replacement surgery—was coding, her heart rate bottoming out as Shirabu and the other doctors rushed to her side. 

She was conscious—for now—and was breathing in short, raspy breaths, clutching at her chests as she fought for air. Her eyes were wild, her stare desperately cutting into Shirabu as he yanked out his stethoscope.

Instantly Shirabu’s brain started clicking, he assessed every little detail of his patient, from the swelling in her legs to the sound of her breathing. He took his stethoscope and gently placed his hands on his patient’s back. By now the breathing was getting worse, nurses began flooding the room. 

“Miss Yuko I need you to lean forwards for me please,” Shirabu instructed as gently as he could, sliding the stethoscope under the hospital robes. He closed his eyes as he listened, recalling every step of the surgery he and Tendou had done on this woman just days earlier. The sounds in the room and the thoughts in Shirabu’s mind fell away as he concentrated on the pumping of his patient’s heart. The muffled bump of the heart told him exactly what he didn’t want to know. He pulled himself back into reality.

“Her valve is leaking,” he told a nurse standing by, placing the oxygen mask over Miss Yuki’s face. “Page Dr. Tendou and book an OR right away.”

Shirabu stepped on the breaks and he and the nurses rolled the patient bed out of the room.

 

When they got there, the OR was prepped and ready. The patient was transferred onto the table and anesthetized. Everything was in place for the emergency surgery—except there was no lead surgeon. Shirabu stood there, his hands wet and freshly scrubbed, scrub cap and surgical gown tied in place.

“Where the hell is Tendou?” Shirabu’s voice was shaking, his anxiety skyrocketing as his patient’s heart bled out internally. 

“He got pulled into a trauma, he’s not available,” the nurse implied. “What’s your glove size doctor?”

“6–“Shirabu quipped as he slid his hands into the gloves—“what about the other Cardio attendings? Dr. Hanamakki?” 

 

“There’s nobody but you Dr. Shirabu.”

 

Shirabu hated when the nurses spoke to him so calmly. It was as if nothing was wrong, they called him doctor as if he knew every procedure perfectly by heart (which he didn’t by the way, he was still a resident after all.) 

He stood there, blankly staring at the patient monitor until the beeping and the voices all blurred together. 

“ Shirabu?”  The nurse asked.

His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears.

“Dr. Shirabu?”  The nurse asked again.

Shirabu’s breath was shallow and short.

 

“ Kenjiro!” It was Semi’s voice that brought Shirabu back to reality. 

“I-I can’t-“ his hands were shaking, he looked around the room, panicked. “I’m a resident, you need an attending. It’s an emergency valve reconstruction, I’ve only watched them. I can’t do it.”

“Dr. Tendou says you’re more than capable of patching up a leaky valve, so you have to!” The nurse’s voice was sharp and stern, she motioned Shirabu over to the operating table. Leaky valve? This woman’s valve was currently deteriorating in her chest. She was bleeding out by the minute because of a disease Tendou has been trying to control for months. 

His breathing shortened even more, every breath he took rattled as it left his mouth. Semi was across the table, calling his name over and over but Shirabu just couldn’t bring himself to focus on anything but his rapid heart rate.

“Kenjiro look at me!” Semi yelled. Normally it would be awkward, Semi calling him by his given name, but he didn’t notice. Shirabu looked up from his dying patient at Semi’s face. His charcoal eyes were strangely comforting. The way they locked into Shirabu’s own eyes and held him steady without the physical contact. Even hearing Semi utter his name made Shirabu’s mind balance. Something about it just felt different; whether it was right or wrong he couldn’t tell. “You can do this! Alright? You’re okay, you’re a brilliant cardiothorastic resident. You can do this.”

Shirabu felt his heart slow and his hands began to steady.

Open heart surgery done by a resident and a brain surgeon, Shirabu thought.  What the hell could possibly go wrong?

“Okay,” he breathed. 

“Okay,” Semi repeated.

“Scalpel.”


	3. Bleeding Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shirabu is in for a very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again?   
> Hope you’re enjoying this Fic! :)
> 
> Reminder: I don’t have any medical experience so please don’t mind any incorrect medical information in this.

As soon as Shirabu made the first cut, drawing the 10-blade down his patient’s chest, his hands steadied and his heart slowed. The scalpel has always felt so natural in his hands, he’d practically been born holding one. He spent almost his entire childhood in this hospital—coloring on old OR charts, playing in the morgue—almost every senior surgeon had seen him grow up. 

His mother had been one of the most achieved surgeons in the country. She was ambitious, driven, brilliant: she had every quality of the perfect surgeon. That’s how the rest of the world saw Hiroko Shirabu. Only the innovating, award winning surgical mastermind was probably the worst mother anyone could think of. Okay, maybe not the worst, but she was pretty bad. Her ambition and arrogance meant she was never home, her work came before everything and everyone; even Kenjiro and his father. She basically lived at the hospital, so until he started school, Kenjiro did too.

When Kenjiro was around five years old, his father had had enough. After a huge argument about Hiroko’s constant absence, Kenjiro’s father left. He has very little memories of his father, and part of him felt angry at his dad for giving up on them—on their family. 

 

“Rib spreader.” 

 

** *

 

From the first cut the bleeding intensified. It had been a while since Semi was the assist in a surgery, much less an assist to open heart surgery. He’d done it before, obviously, when he was an intern and a resident; but brain surgery and heart surgery were two completely different things. 

When Shirabu got to the heart his face darkened instantly. It wasn’t the valve they had replaced earlier that was leaking, it was almost every other valve in the heart. 

“The disease has spread to the entire heart,” Shirabu’s voice was hoarse and drained of almost all it’s energy. Semi looked down at the pathetic heart, struggling to keep beating in the chest cavity as blood leaked profusely from the valves. Shirabu took a second to stare at his patient. 

 

“Alright hang more blood,” he said, his tone quickening. Shirabu threw stitch after stitch, each one with perfect precision. His gloved fingers danced with the clamps and the 3-0 proline. He never slowed down, racing an invisible hourglass as he fought to control the bleeding and stop the blood from spewing out of the ailing valves. Semi had taught a few of the surgical residents on their neuro rotation, and all of them were smart, they had been accepted into this program after all, but there was something different about Shirabu; though he couldn’t quite name it. Something that drew him in and almost made him forget that someone was dying on the table in front of him. 

“Dammit,” Shirabu cursed under his breath. “Can someone please page Dr. Tendou? I-I can’t control the bleeding.”

 

“He’s still not available.”

 

“This woman should have gotten an entirely new heart, not just a valve.” Shirabu clamped an artery and began stitching up the tear. The disease had infiltrated the muscles, which deteriorated more and more every time the heart pumped. 

“She’s not high enough on the transplant list either,” Shirabu hissed. The monitor was going haywire as the thick red blood rapidly escaped the vessels.

“Pressure’s plummeting,” the anesthesiologist warned. 

Blood was everywhere. Filling up the cavity and spilling over the sides onto the floor. The heart was barely visible under the pool of thick red blood. 

 

***

 

Shirabu’s face was distressed. His brow was furrowed and his forehead was all scrunched up—it really shouldn’t have been such a good look on him. He cursed under his breath; the patient was bleeding out and there was basically nothing anyone could do. But Shirabu fought it. He threw stitches and graphs like no there was no end.

Semi knew Shirabu wouldn’t give in anytime soon. The blood was everywhere, pouring out faster than they could put it in. 

Just as it seemed like the patient had bled enough, the artery burst. Thick red liquid shot out of the cavity, spraying across the table. Shirabu recoiled slightly as he was hit in the face with the explosive surge of red liquid. It stained his scrub cap and was obviously starting to seep through to his hair and drip down his face. Shirabu kept working as a nurse hurried over to wipe his vision clear with a surgical towel. 

“Damn-“ The heart rate on the monitor began to quicken. “Dammit!” 

Finally the monitor flatlined. Semi and Shirabu were left standing in a pool of the blood that should have been in a 30 year old woman instead.

Shirabu froze, mechanically setting the clamp he’d been holding on the surgical tray. He stared into the chest cavity, eyes wide and confused—The was a slight tremble in his hands. Semi took his hands off of the suction, he looked up at Shirabu, who wouldn’t take his eyes away from the table. 

“Shirabu?” Semi breathed. 

A bead of sweat ran down Shirabu’s forehead, followed by a line of blood that definitely did not belong to him. He forced himself to take a step back from the table and exasperatedly ripped the gloves off his hands.

“Shirabu?” Semi repeated. Shirabu’s face was blank.

The resident spun around, powder blue surgical gown flowing behind him as he wandered out the door, weakly pulling the blood-soaked scrub cap off his head. His normally pristine hair was messy, soaked in sticky blood that stained his golden-brown hair dark red. 

“Time of death, 14:38.” He said as he left, his voice hollow.

 

When the nurses came into the OR and began cleaning up, Semi scrubbed out by himself and threw the blood-soaked surgical gown in the medical waste. Outside in the hall was the muffled sounds of an argument. Someone was yelling. 

He slowly pushed on the door and looked out in the hallway. With the door open the yelling became much louder and clearer. Semi could guess who was doing the arguing, but the actual argument was not what he had expected. 

He froze in the doorway, unable to pull his attention away from the two surgeons across the hall. 

“It wasn’t you’re fault,” Tendou said, his voice calm and nonchalant as he almost ignored the other surgeon. His eyes were glued to the patient chart in his hands, not making contact with the others. 

“Not my fault?” It was Shirabu who raised his voice, it sounded broken, slightly cracking in his throat. “Of course it was my fault, she bled out on my table—right in front of me!” 

“There was nothing you could’ve done.” Tendou still didn’t fully acknowledge his resident who stood in front of him, head hung low and fists clenched.

“I couldn’t save her.” 

Tendou pulled his attention away from the chart and dropped it to his side. “Dr. Shirabu,” he sighed, “there was nothing that could have been done. We slowed down the disease with the valve replacement but we couldn’t stop it. Your patient died, and so will many more in your career. You need to be able to pick yourself up from that.”

“But-“

“Now go tell the family.” Tendou cut him off, his voice now incredibly stern. Shirabu was clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles began to turn white. 

“Go!” Tendou repeated.

Without another word Shirabu turned and walked away. As he passed Semi he ran his hand over his face—he didn’t say a word. 

 

Semi wanted to go after him. He wanted to tell Shirabu that it wasn’t his fault—that sometimes you just can’t save them. Semi was well aware of the pain that came with loosing your first patient. You see so many people die under the hand of your attending as a resident, but what truly hurts is the one that dies on your own table. 

 

Semi could still remember the first patient he lost on his own. He could still remember the burning pain in his stomach when he realized that he hadn’t been able to save someone. The memory is haunting for every surgeon. 

Instead of going after the brittle resident, Semi remained in the doorway, distantly looking down the hall. His mind was somewhere else, stuck in the memory of last night. To be completely honest, Semi wasn’t sure he was ready for that moment to leave his head—he wanted the fuzzy feeling in his stomach to stay a little longer. 

Before he could spend more than a moment in recollection of the previous night, Semi was dragged back into reality by the sigh of Tendou’s voice beside him.

 

“The first one’s always the hardest.”

 

“Did you have to be so harsh?” Semi asked, drying off his wet, freshly-washed hands. 

Tendou turned and looked at him. His dark eyes curiously looming down on him as Tendou leaned his very tall, lanky figure against the doorframe.

“Why do you care how I teach my resident?” Tendou asked slyly.

Semi almost winced when he remembered how incredibly observant the red-headed surgeon was. The last thing he needed was this man discovered Semi’s poor life decision to kiss a resident— Tendou’s resident— as well as the fact that Semi was still thinking about said resident. And to be completely honest, Semi wasn’t sure how Tendou would react if he found out.

“I don’t. I just-“ Semi stuttered, averting his gaze from Tendou. “I know what it’s like to have someone die on your table for the first time.”

Tendou’s face darkened. The smug curiosity had left his face, leaving his features still and cold. “Yeah,” his voice was short. “I know that feeling too. Most of us do Semi.”

Tendou turned and disappeared into a patient room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry Shirabu.  
> >.<


	4. Imbeciles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shirabu is exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I hope you’re enjoying the story so far. School is kicking my ass so I won’t be able to post as often until it ends in a month. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy!  
> :)  
> Please let me know what you think about the story in the comments because I’d love to know! And if you like the story leave a kudos and tell your friends!   
> Have a lovely day!

For the rest of the day Semi didn’t come in contact with any residents, despite the fact that there were quite a few who worked at this hospital. He felt strangely isolated.

When Semi checked the time, he forced the feeling down and made his way off of the surgical floor. He had an aneurysm to clip in an hour and he couldn’t go cutting into people’s brains with such a strange strange sensation in his gut. 

Maybe it was worry—he could still imagine the look on Shirabu’s face when he had last seen him. The utter confusion in his eyes when a woman had died on his table.

Semi shook his head, mentally gathering himself at the desk before he dragged himself to the locker room (a place he absolutely despised) and took a deep breath at the door before swinging it open. 

He found himself looking at a small selection of residents and interns. Semi scanned the room, noticing a set of blood-stained sneakers left empty on the floor. In the background Semi could hear the quiet hiss of a shower, and the thought hit him—those were Shirabu’s shoes. He shook the idea out of his head and reverted his focus towards the residents in front of him. 

“I need an intern,” Semi said blatantly. “Preferably a good one. I have an aneurysm.” 

Kawanishi returned Semi’s authoritative gaze with his own unamused look. The resident ran his fingers through his ginger hair before standing up, possibly flaunting the fact that Kawanishi was a few inches taller than Semi. 

“Don’t look at me,” Kawanishi said in his blatantly monotone voice. “I need all of my interns.” 

Semi scoffed. Finally another resident rounded the lockers and volunteered. 

“You can have one of mine,” Nishinoya offered. “I’ll tell them to meet you in the patient room.”

“Thanks.”

Just as Semi was about to turn and leave the resident/intern locker room, he noticed the hiss of the shower was absent. He paused in the doorway as Shirabu came out of the shower room, his tawny-brown hair was wet and sticking to his forehead. His face and hair had been scrubbed clean of the blood that had drenched him during the previous surgery, and he was dressed in a clean pair of pale blue scrubs. 

Despite being freshly showered, Shirabu looked exhausted. He walked to his locker and didn’t even notice Semi’s presence. Kawanishi and Noya watched Shirabu pull out his stethoscope and pens then shove them into his pockets. He threw on his white lab coat before he noticed everyone was staring at him. Shirabu paused, his face was uncomfortable and even a little pissed off, but Semi couldn’t help but wonder if the flush of pink on his face was because he had just showered, or if he was blushing. 

“What?” Shirabu asked in a razor tone, his exhaustion clearly getting the best of him.

Semi didn’t respond. He left the room without a word.

 

 

Semi was incredibly thankful that the intern he was given happened to be Tsukishima. The tall first-year intern was smart, and despite being a bit of an ass, he minded his own business. 

 

The OR was tranquil. The quiet hiss of the ventilator, and the steady rhythm of the heart monitors soothed Semi. He chose neurosurgery for a reason—the quiet. Growing up in a household with a crazy mother and three little sisters, Semi found the quiet hard to come by. 

Neurosurgery rarely resulted in the type of panic and stress Semi had witnessed in the operating room with Shirabu. The call

for precise work done by incredibly meticulous surgeons slowed the process of fixing someone’s brain. Surgeons like Semi didn’t have room for mistakes, the slightest tremor of the hand or his own elevated heart rate could be lethal to a patient. 

Though growing up with three younger sisters had gifted Semi with his short fuse, he also gained his ability to relax in most situations where others would panic. 

Semi enjoyed the peace of neurosurgery. The brain—so vast with secrets and mysteries—so much scientists are yet to learn even at this point in medical history. He loved the veiled character of the most vital organ in the human anatomy. 

 

Tsukishima was quiet throughout most of the surgery. Semi did his best to answer the intern’s questions with as much detail as he could. Procedures like clipping an aneurysm came so naturally to Semi that he couldn’t always recall every step. His hands just went through the motion as simply as breathing or blinking. 

The tall blonde intern almost looked bored behind the frames of his glasses. It was so quiet even the scrub nurse, Futakuchi who normally took every chance to pester Semi in the operating room. Although Futakuchi was probably the best scrub nurse in the hospital, his snarky personality made it so no surgeon would admit it. The quiet was as awkward as it was relaxing. Semi found himself able to clear his mind and focus entirely on the surgery. His mind didn’t wander outside the swinging doors of the operating room, and it definitely did not reach the screening room he had been in the previous night. 

 

Though he enjoyed the quiet, Semi decided a bit of small talk wouldn’t hurt. 

“Have you considered a specialty yet Dr. Tsukishima?” Semi asked, turning the surgical probe a touch to get a better view of the aneurysm that had developed in their patient’s brain. 

Semi guessed that Tsukishima was probably enjoying the silence by the look he got after breaking it. It was possibly the most important question for a surgeon, even one as inexperienced as an intern like Tsukishima. A surgeon’s specialty defines their personality—it defined who they were. 

“I don’t know,” Tsukishima started, “probably plastics. You get to pick your own hours and still get a huge paycheck.” 

Ah. 

Classic Tsukishima, taking the easy way out of tough situations, playing it safe. Although Semi respected Tsukishima’s composure, he wondered if it was just a lack of interest in everything he did. Unlike Tsukishima, many surgeons would jump at the opportunity to scrub into any surgery. Surgeons as passionate as Shirabu Kenjiro couldn’t get enough of the cutting. 

 

And there he goes again, his mind wandering off without Semi’s remote permission. The past two days his mind has always ended up in the same place. And what he though would be simple small talk led him to thinking about the resident who drives him up a wall in so many different ways. 

Semi decided to go with a simple, “interesting,” before he pulled the probes out of his patient’s brain and closed up the incision. 

 

“Take the patient to post-op, and update the chart please,” Semi instructed, drying his hands off after scrubbing out of his second surgery of the day. 

“Yes sir,” Tsukishima said. Semi felt a weird sensation at the word “sir” being directed at himself. It was strange—he was only six years older than most of the interns, and being called sir made him feel way older than that. 

“Alright.” Semi erased his surgery from the surgical board before turning back to the lazy intern. “Thanks for your help Tsukishima.”

The intern nodded before sauntering down the hall.

The surgical board had died down, only a few appys and a hip replacement scattered on the large dry-erase board on the wall. Semi stared blankly at it for a minute, his eyes searching for a name he knew wouldn’t be on there. Finally Semi was yanked out of his exhausted trance by the uncomfortably loud growling of his own stomach. Realizing he hadn’t eaten since the few chips he’d stolen from Shirabu, Semi decided he’d go down to the main surgical floor. 

 

Semi should have noticed the tension as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. It was as if the air pressure had dropped dramatically, warning of an incoming storm. But he didn’t, and continued to meander towards a vending machine until he collided with another surgeon. 

“Ah, Sorry-“ Semi began to focus, picking up his surroundings one by one until the puzzle was complete.

There was a crowd to nurses, interns, residents and even some attendings gathered outside a conference room, their voices hushed as they whispered to one another. Whatever was going on inside that conference room had the attention of almost half the hospital.

 

“They are so screwed,” giggled an intern. 

 

“What did they do?” Asked another.

 

“He’s going to lose it,” a resident murmured. 

 

“All five feet nine inches of him,” scoffed a third intern.

 

Semi pushed his way through the crowd, craning his neck to see inside the conference room. Finally he made it to the front of the group and had a clear view of whatever was causing the commotion. The final piece of the puzzle snapped into place and the storm hit—hard.

 

 

The tension in the conference room was so high Semi could almost feel it through the wall. Inside was two interns, both with clear looks of trepidation chiseled into their anxious faces. The smaller of the interns had obnoxious orange hair and a round face. He was pale as a ghost, like someone had just drained every ounce of blood from his veins. Semi was almost certain the ginger intern was about to vomit. 

The other intern was tall with straight black hair and dark eyes. His face showed little emotion, but the terror in his eyes gave it all away. They both sat at the otherwise empty table, awaiting what looked like certain death. 

Across from the interns, was obviously their worst nightmare. Hands flat against the table, head ducked in between his thin shoulders, Shirabu stood there—seething. 

 

** *

 

Shirabu was livid.

Every cell in his body was burning with red-hot rage. His jaw was clenched so hard he could feel the ache run through the back of his skull and down his neck.

 

Shirabu couldn’t even look at them. He couldn’t raise his head and look at the interns , his interns,  who have just made his day a hundred times worse. Shirabu was well aware of the crowd outside the window; he was aware of the way his peers were whispering about this, about him. But Shirabu was so angry he didn’t even care. He didn’t say anything, letting the tension grow until he could finally snap. Although to be completely honest, Shirabu didn’t want to snap. He didn’t even want to yell. What Shirabu wanted most today was to crawl into a hole and be away from the rest of the world. 

 

But, he had no choice.

 

“One of you better damn well start talking,” Shirabu’s voice was a low growl. It took more effort to form the words than it should have.

 

Silence.

 

“I don’t have all day!” he snapped.

 

The ginger intern, Hinata, shifted in his seat. Kageyama, the taller, dark haired intern sat back, meeting Shirabu’s pissed-off glare with his own unfazed look—which only made Shirabu angrier.

 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Kageyama started, crossing his arms. 

Damn intern!  He thinks he’s totally untouchable, perfect grades in college and med-school. Offers from different hospitals across the country. He thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants in this damn hospital just because he’s smart. 

But Kageyama Tobio was not the only intelligent one in the room.

“Not your fault?” Shirabu scoffed, shaking his head slowly, eyes locked on Kageyama’s.

He looked to Hinata, who still looked as if he was about to vomit. 

“What about you?” Shirabu’s voice was rising, his breath shortening. “This not your fault either?”

“No..” Hinata began to squeak.

 

“She was your patient!” Shirabu was yelling now, his face steaming in rage. “She was your patient and now she’s dead! Because of your mistake! Because you can’t deal with your personal shit long enough to be doctors!”

 

“It wasn’t me!” Kageyama defended.

Shirabu slammed the chart on the table in front if him. The interns’ names were scribbled on the line labeled ‘doctor’.

 

“I don’t give a damn about whatever personal crap you have going on between the two of you, but it got in the way of your patient’s care today. Today your incompetence costed a young woman her life.” Shirabu ran his hand across his face. He was so tired. So tired but so, so angry. “You were shit doctors today. And I’m your teacher so that makes me a shit doctor.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Hinata whimpered. Shirabu looked up, even Kageyama looked extremely remorseful. 

“Damn right you better be.” 

 

“Both of you are on probation. You won’t interact with any patients and you will not see the inside of an OR until I say so, the only thing you’re allowed to do is watch. So much as sneeze and you’re done.” Shirabu turned from the conference table where his two interns sat. Neither of them protested. 

 

One of them began to stand up, obviously desperate to leave the room, which had been filled fo the brim with Shirabu’s seething anger. 

“Sit down,” Shirabu snapped. 

The resident sighed, dropping his hand from the doorknob and turning to face his two interns.

“You made a mistake.” Shirabu looked sympathetic for a moment. “You let your personal life get in the way of your job. But as surgeons that can’t happen, people’s lives depend on us. But as surgeons you also need to pick yourselves up. Learn from your mistake and become better.”

 

Shirabu yanked the thick wooden door open and left the two young surgeons to wallow in their own regret. 

Now he had to face the group of doctors outside, standing, waiting for Shirabu to say something. 

But the only thing Shirabu could managed was a weak, “what?” that escaped from his bitter mouth.

The small crowd disassembled soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy.


	5. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day at the hospital, Semi finds Shirabu in a bad—drunk as hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I’ve returned after quite a little while. School is almost over and once it is, I’ll be able to post multiple times a week.  
> I hope you’re all enjoying the story! I have a feeling it might be longer than expected but as long as you all are still interested then that’s okay. Thank you for reading! If you enjoy the story, please leave a comment or Kudos if you so desire. :)
> 
> -I have very little medical experience, so sorry if any of the medical information is a little off-

The frontal lobe is the part of the brain where decisions are made, every choice from deciding what to eat to moving into a new home comes from that part of the brain. Good decisions can change your life—picking the right lottery number or accepting a job—Bad decisions can ruin your life. Sometimes it’s just luck, but a decision gone right can make everything go so much better, or so much worse. Damage to the frontal lobe can greatly impair one’s ability to think, and to make decisions. 

Other things can impair one’s judgement, and sometimes they’re a lot worse than a blow to the frontal lobe. 

For one, tequila. Semi’s seen it himself—people drunk off their asses often find themselves in his OR with some alcohol-induced brain injury. 

Another, which has proved significantly destructive for Semi himself, is attractive men. Especially attractive 27 year-old resident surgeons with perfect hair and dark brown eyes. Men who are brilliant and talented, and who make Semi feel like he’s going to go insane.

 

Semi was glad the neuro-lab was empty within an hour of his arrival. When he got there the lab was quiet, Dr. Oikawa sat at his desk working on the clinical trial that had Semi taking over most of Oikawa’s surgeries. Soon enough, Iwaizumi showed up at the door and the two surgeons left Semi alone in the lab. 

He tried not to be bitter about it—after all he knew they were perfect, obviously. He knew their story, he’d been there for some of it when they were interns, but it wasn’t the relationship that bothered him. It was the thought that Semi probably wouldn’t ever know what it’s like to be so committed to someone.

Semi stared at the computer screen, anxiously running his fingers through his silvery hair. He couldn’t focus—he was hungry and tired, but he didn’t want to go home. 

After the light of the screen and the very tiny words finally started to hurt his eyes, Semi slammed the laptop shut and got up. He needed to go somewhere else. 

 

On the way down, the elevator stopped on the fifth floor—the cardio floor. Part of Semi thought that Shirabu would be there, walk on silently and mind his own business the way everyone always did, that same part of Semi just wanted him there. 

Reality proved itself quite inadequate. The elevator lurched to a stop, the classic ring sang out as the metal doors slid open. Semi was then faced with a ridiculously tall, bothersome red-head. 

“Oh well if it isn’t Semi-Semi,” Tendou chided as he walked onto the elevator and stood next to Semi, who rolled his eyes at the sound of the ridiculous nickname. “Going home?”

“Unfortunately,” Semi replied, “you?”

“Nope, I’m on call,” Tendou sighed, “and without a resident too, I sent Kenjiro home.”

Semi swallowed at the sound of Shirabu’s given name. Yeah, Tendou was his mentor but it felt weird to hear the other attending say it so casually—as if they were best friends or something. He shifted uncomfortably and waited for the sound of the elevator doors sliding open. 

 

It was dark outside, and raining. The gentle splatter of the rain tapped against Semi’s windshield, as he slid into his car and started the engine. He liked when it rained at night; he liked the sound of a storm and the way headlights reflected off the puddles on the road. It was relaxing, especially after a stressful day in the hospital, it was nice fall asleep to raindrops hitting his windows. Even if he was sleeping in an on call room, rain always helped.

 

Semi’s felt the pang of hunger in his stomach not long after getting in the car. He had gotten distracted by the scene in the conference room and forgot to eat something. He quickly decided against pizza in his apartment and turned his black Honda Civic back into the central part of the city.

Ukai’s bar was the go-to place for all staff at Miyagi Central Hospital. It was right across the street, tucked in a corner between two taller buildings. The lighting was dim, accompanied by neon fluorescent lights, and music at night. Doctors, nurses, anesthesiologists, and so much more go to Ukai’s to eat, drink, and play darts; It had become a symbol for the hospital. The bar thrived off of hospital business—to anyone else it was dark and seemingly sketchy, but really it was a nice place. 

 

When Semi exhaustedly swung open the dark-oak wood door he went straight to the bar, slumping himself onto a leather 

stool. Ukai walked up from behind the bar, drying off a glass with a rag. He looked Semi up and down and smirked.

“Would you be surprised if I told you that you’re the least messed up surgeon who’s came into this bar tonight?” Ukai chuckled, sliding a glass towards Semi and filling it with his usual IPA beer. 

“Rough day for everyone I guess,” Semi said, taking a sip of his drink, the taste biting at his tongue and walking his stomach. It was around 11 at night and the bar was starting to thin out, except for a few drinking stragglers. Even the musicians were packing up their instruments. 

“Oh yeah,” Ukai said, pouring another golden foam beer and sliding it to another customer a few seats down. 

“I feel like I need to cut something,” Semi scoffed.

“I don’t understand you surgeons and your desire to cut people open,” Ukai shook his head. “It’s really strange.”

“Helps with the stress I guess,” Semi was almost laughing. Indeed, he was stressed. He didn’t even have a good reason to be, he just felt like his life was pushing him towards some inevitable end and he couldn’t slow down; and as a result everything stressed him out.

“I heard about what happened with the interns,” Ukai whispered rather loudly, Semi almost cringed thinking about what the two surgical idiots did to get their resident so incredibly pissed off.

 

But of course, Ukai heard almost every scrap of hospital drama. Sometimes he would even know more information than most people involved. Doctors, nurses, and even some patients came to the bar to vent and share hospital drama, which was strangely similar to that of a high school. It was as if the grown doctors with medical degrees and certifications were just crazy students at a drama-infested school. Sometimes adults are just as bad as high schoolers, other times they were worse. 

“Speaking of the intern incident, I assume I have the leftover damage right here in my bar,” Ukai said, jamming his thumb towards the end of the long mahogany counter. 

“You have what?” Semi turned his head and felt his heart skip. His mouth went dry as he noticed the person who sat five stools down from him. 

 

Straight hair draped low over his face as he hung his head down, staring at his feet beneath the bar. Both hands were wrapped around a stout glass, filled with a clear alcoholic beverage—probably tequila.

Semi almost swallowed audibly as he noticed Shirabu at the end of the bar. Despite his obvious state of misery, Semi couldn’t help but think about how attractive he looked under the neon bar lights. How Shirabu’s skin looked softer and brighter; and how the vivid colors—pink, green, and blue—reflected off of his soft hair. 

“ He  has had a rough day,” Ukai stated. 

Semi forced himself to focus his gaze back to his drink, but Ukai continued to look sorrowfully in Shirabu’s direction. 

“Don’t drink too much, I need you to do me a favor,” Ukai said.

Semi looked up from the glossy table at the bar-tender. His dark eyes were softer than normal, his straight dyed blonde hair falling into his face. 

“What?” Semi murmured. 

“I need you to take him home.”

 

———————————————————

Semi almost choked on his drink.

“You want me to what?” He sputtered, frantically looking over to where Shirabu sat.

“Come on he’s drunk off his ass, can’t you just drive him home please?” Ukai almost whined. 

“Why me?” Semi felt the heat creeping up his face. If his cheeks were a bright shade of pink then Ukai must have ignored it. “Why can’t you just call him a cab or something?”

“Because I trust you,” Ukai didn’t seem to understand Semi’s hesitation. “And I’d rather have you take him home than one of them.”

Frowning darkly, Ukai nodded his head towards a small group of three middle-aged men sitting not to far from where Shirabu was. Sober, Semi could sense their intentions right away; they stared at Shirabu, eyes looking him up and down with greed written all over their faces. They were only a few years older than Semi was (meaning about 5 years older than Shirabu) but they still could be labeled as obvious predators.

 

Disgusting , Semi thought to himself, as he watched one of the men, no older than 34, approach Shirabu’s side. Shirabu, being as drunk as he was, barely acknowledged the presence to the man beside him—this only seemed to frustrate him, for he obviously sought Shirabu’s attention and couldn’t take a hint. 

“See what I mean?” Ukai sighed. “As long as they’re in the bar I can intervene, but it won’t be too hard to get someone who’s  that drunk to come home with them, and at that point there isn’t anything I can do.”

 

It’s not that Semi didn’t want to take Shirabu home—he did— it was the fact that Semi was pretty sure it was a bad idea. His mind had been occupied by the stubborn resident all day, and driving him home while Shirabu was drunk, had bad idea written all over it. Obviously Semi wasn’t like the man across the bar—he wasn’t some slob who couldn’t control himself around attractive drunk people—but he didn’t want to put himself through the experience if it meant he’d have an even harder time getting Shirabu off his mind.

Looking at the situation a few seats down, Semi decided he had no choice.

 

Semi felt as if rocks had just been dropped into his stomach when the man, now forcing his presence upon Shirabu’s attention, subtly reached out and slid his hand around Shirabu’s tiny waste. His long, thin fingers curling just above Shirabu’s hip bone. He said something, and it was pretty obvious that whatever came out of his filthy mouth had made Shirabu uncomfortable. The thought of Shirabu going home with this dirt-bag made Semi’s insides churn. He took one last swig out of his glass and got up with a slight groan. 

 

 

“No thanks,” Shirabu said, his words slurring slightly. Whatever he was drinking he had a lot of it.

Semi approached the scene, mildly pissed off. By the time he was face to face with the man, he was extremely pissed off, after hearing him say some shit like ‘aw come on, I could show you a good time.’

Semi swallowed down his horrible temper—a bar fight was the last thing he needed, despite how much he wanted it—and pushed the man’s shoulder to place himself in between him and Shirabu. 

“You should leave,” Semi said blankly. 

“Fuck off,” he said. Semi could smell the tang of cigarettes on the man’s breath, but no alcohol. 

So he’s pulling this shit sober? Semi almost retched at the thought. 

“I told you to get lost,” Semi repeated. His voice was still calm but his patience was thinning. Semi slowly clenched and unclenches his hands, distracting them so his fists wouldn’t meet the other man’s nose.

Upon further inspection, the man wasn’t as lowly in appearance as he was in personality. His clothes and shoes showed decent wealth; he had thick black hair and light brown eyes. His jawline was sharp, angling towards his ears so that he looked a little like a statue.

“Mind your own business,” the man scoffed, trying to shove Semi to the side. Semi mentally took a deep breath, it was taking every ounce of concentration in Semi’s head to keep his top from blowing. 

 

“You have three options,” Semi said shortly. “You can leave quietly. Or I can call the cops, and they’ll arrest you for harassing a person under the influence. Or I could beat the shit out of you right here and we both get arrested.” Semi looked the man straight in the eye before saying, “your choice.”

Thankfully, he got the message. Semi almost let out a sigh of relief when the man scoffed and turned to leave. 

Shirabu was staring at him, his eyes wide and confused; clearly that brilliant brain or his was currently not functioning properly. He stared at Semi, his mouth slightly agape.

“Why..” Shirabu was quiet, his words slurring together slightly. “What are you doing here?”

“I would be drinking but it appears I’ve become your knight in shining armor,” Semi almost laughed. He found the drunk version of Shirabu extremely amusing. 

“I don’t need some knight in shining whatever.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m moderately functional,” Shirabu protested, cupping his tequila in his palms and bringing it to his lips. He glanced at Semi over the rim of his glass, tipping it backwards. Semi sighed wearily—he really was attractive like this—and tried to focus on the situation rather than Shirabu’s big brown eyes. 

Semi reached over and pried the alcohol from Shirabu’s hands, gently placing the glass on his other side. Shirabu made a small sound in protest, but ultimately was too disoriented to fully comprehend anything at all.

“Besides you would have ended up in that guy’s car if I hadn’t shown up.”

“I was not going to go home with him,” Shirabu mumbled. Though the look in his eyes added the missing phrase both Semi and Shirabu knew was there.  Willingly.

 

“I’ll drive you home.”


	6. Drunk on Your Laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semi struggles to keep his composure as he gives Shirabu a ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I’m back! School is over in a week and soon I’ll finally be free. So sorry I’ve been gone for so long, hopefully nobody’s lost interest in the fic.  
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

“You know,” Shirabu slurred, clinging on to Semi’s black jacket. “I kinda feel like kissing you again. You’re a very good kisser.”

Semi didn’t think it was possible for his face to get warmer. He stared at his shoes as the two of them exited the bar. 

Dear lord.  Semi thought. 

Why the hell did he have to deal with this. 

 

“You’re quite the drinker aren’t you,” Semi sighed.

“Why drown yourself in self hatred when you can drown yourself in tequila instead,” Shirabu’s voice was hinted with a giggle, which only made Semi more turned on. He was drunk, and hot, and adorable, and all of it was completely off limits. Semi sighed, wrapping his arm around Shirabu’s shoulders, attempting to keep him walking upright.

“Yeah well I probably would kiss you back, if you weren’t so drunk,” Semi mumbled, mostly to himself.

“What?” 

“Nothing.”

 

Semi yanked his car door open, and gently guided Shirabu into the passenger seat. He looked over at the resident curled up in the seat next to him and almost smiled. Shirabu leaned his head against the window, the giddy look on his face earlier had faded, transitioning into the exhaustion that still haunted him.

 

“Alright,” Semi sighed, turning his keys in the ignition. He sat back in the leather seat, hands resting on the steering wheel, and turned to Shirabu, “where to?”

Shirabu almost looked startled, then his expression changed to confused. 

“Uh,” Shirabu thought for a moment. Obviously he was drunk enough to have trouble remembering his own address. “306-1069, Chidori.” 

 

The car was quie—neither of them said a word. There was no sound except for the quiet hum of the car and the faint whoosh of passing vehicles. Semi didn’t hate the nonverbal interaction, it was tranquil, but at the same time a small part of him wanted the communication. The sound of Shirabu’s voice when he made those snarky comments just made Semi a little more at peace. But he kept driving, because Shirabu was drunk, what reasonable conversation could they possibly have anyway? Of course Semi’s brain didn’t listen to reason.

“You know, it’s really not a great idea to get so drunk when you have nobody with you.” 

Semi’s over-protectiveness began to kick in, after all he did grow up with three little sisters and two very elusive parents. “What if I hadn’t been there?”

“I can handle creepy old men by myself thanks.” Shirabu mumbled, which really meant, “ this isn’t the first time it’s happened .”

Shirabu slumped in the seat, crossing his arms across him. He looked uncomfortable and Semi figured it’d be best if he dropped the subject. 

“I was with someone. They got paged and left.” Shirabu’s voice was quiet. Semi almost forgot that the resident was still drunk.

“Oh.”

“That’s all people ever do. They leave,” Shirabu’s words came out awkwardly, he stumbled on his thoughts as he struggled to form sentences. “My dad left, everyone I’ve ever dated left, and my mom—well my mom was barely even there from the beginning. So maybe I have trust issues or whatever, I’m all screwed up. Why do you even care?”

“Instinct I guess. I have three younger sisters and my parents weren’t ever there for us. They were always too busy screaming at each other to take care of kids so I had to do all the parenting myself.”

 

“Are you trying to make me feel bad or something?” Shirabu scoffed, his voice hinted with laughter. “Because someone died at my hands today—a twenty-four year old woman who had an entire family and an entire future. And I killed her.”

“Come on Shirabu you can’t blame yourself for that, she had an incredibly aggressive cardiac disease. She wouldn’t have made it off that table even if it were Tendou who was operating,” Semi said. “Its not your fault.”

Shirabu ignored him.

“And then my interns killed someone! I’m such a shitty surgeon and an even worse teacher, that my interns literally cannot beleft alone for twenty minutes or they’ll actually kill someone!” 

“Well we all know that the interns are incapable surgical fetuses that can’t tell the pancreas from the liver.” Semi laughed, and eventually Shirabu joined in.

The peace was something Semi hadn’t felt in a long time. The sound of Shirabu’s laugh was like a drug. The way it flushed his cheeks and filled the car with the bubbly sound of his giggles made Semi’s head all fuzzy. He struggled to pay attention to the road while he fought down the urge to pull over and kiss him right there and then. When Shirabu let out a small snort in the mix of his laughing fit, Semi struggled even more, feeling the laughter in his own stomach transform into butterflies.

“Can I tell you something I haven’t told anyone else?” Shirabu was breathless from laughing, the alcohol prolonging his giddy attitude way longer than normal. 

 

“That’s probably not a great idea.”

 

Shirabu went ahead and told him anyways, “my mother isn’t traveling for research.”

“What-“

“She actually isn’t doing anything. My mother has Alzheimers. She lives in a nursing home and I’m the only person who knows.”

The mood darkened but Shirabu still bubbles over with leftover hiccups of laughter. Semi’s laughter fell sideways as he processed the information.

Hiroko Shirabu, the world renown surgeon who had won countless awards and has changed the face of medicine with her brilliance—had Alzheimer’s disease. And it had been a secret for so long. For years the entire world had been deceived when it came to her status, and the only person who knew about it was Kenjiro. Semi couldn’t imagine the stress of keeping such a huge secret. 

“How advanced is it?” Semi said softly, keeping his gaze ahead of him on the road. 

“She’s basically at stage seven,” Shirabu mumbled. Semi felt his heart sink as if he had known Shirabu’s mother himself. 

 

As a neurosurgeon, Semi knew how detrimental the late stages of Alzheimer’s could be to a patient’s family. He’d seen a man completely forget his wife’s name, and a lady who couldn’t even recognize her own baby. It was depressing, and incredibly frustrating to those around Alzheimer’s patients. 

“Sometimes—rarely—she’ll recognize me,” Shirabu said. “Most of the time she doesn’t know who I am or why I’m visiting her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

 

 

Semi pulled up in front of an old house and stopped the car. The rain was slowing down, but the drops were still persistently falling onto his windshield. 

 

“You live in a house?” Was the only thing Semi could think of saying, as he stared up the walkway. It was a two-story home, with dark wood siding, grey shutters, an oak door, and a swinging bench on the front porch. The yard was slightly unkempt, littered with acorns from the many oak trees that surrounded the yard. The driveway was empty, and the inside of the house was dark. 

It was a strange comment, but Semi was surprised to find that the resident lived in such a sophisticated home. Semi was an attending, who made way more money than he knew what to do with, and he still wouldn’t think of living in an actual house. He was at the hospital most of the time, so there was no point in paying extra for more space. Residents spent even more time at the hospital, and Semi remembered how he had barely managed to pay off student-debt  and pay rent. 

“I have two roommates,” Shirabu murmured, his words still clumsy and slurred. “This was my mothers house when I was young and she was working at the hospital.”

Shirabu fumbled with the door handle, pulling at it helplessly, trying to match his timing with unlocking the door and actually pushing it open. 

It was at that moment when Semi came to the realization that he would need to help Shirabu into the house. 

Semi sighed and got out of the car. He walked around and opened the the passenger door, leaning down to help the drunken doctor out of his Audi. 

 

Semi reached out his hand, almost smirking as Shirabu took several tries to meet it with his own. Eventually Shirabu was able to interlace his fingers with Semi’s. He felt his breath hitch in his throat at the touch of Shirabu’s hand—as uncoordinated as it was. His fingers were long and thin, and his skin was soft to the touch. 

Semi gripped his hand and pulled Shirabu to his feet, bracing him when he stumbled over the curb. 

“I’m going to hate myself in the morning,” Shirabu groaned, holding onto Semi’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you probably will,” Semi snickered.

“Shut up.”

Semi’s eyes wandered down to Shirabu’s face, and he almost tripped on his own sober feet. He was pouting—furrowing his brow and pursing his lips; he looked way too attractive for his own good. Semi felt his face get hot and immediately focused on getting up the front porch steps, helping Shirabu find his keys and watching him fail to properly open the door. 

With Semi’s help, the lock clicked and the door swung open. 

 

Inside the house was not the way Semi expected it to be, although he wasn’t exactly sure what he would have imagined it to be like. The small mess—shoes and jackets strewn about the entrance, the kitchen slightly littered with dirty dishes—indicated that the house was definitely occupied by more than one surgeon. Semi wondered if he knew the roommates Shirabu had mentioned earlier; did they work at Miyagi Central? They obviously weren’t home at the moment, so Semi and Shirabu were alone.

 

Shirabu kicked off his shoes, barely paying attention to how they landed untidily next to the door. He threw his keys into a jar adjacent to the entrance, and tossed his jacket over the rail. Shirabu looked not only drunk but exhausted too—his eyes were bloodshot from alcohol and lack of sleep, and he stumbled around as if he was about to pass out. Finally, Shirabu asked the question they all were wondering.

“Why are you doing this?” Shirabu mumbled, gripping the stair rail and Semi’s shoulder as they both worked their way up to the second floor. He spoke very slowly, over pronouncing every letter in every word as he managed to form sentences. “Why didn’t you just leave me at the bar? Or at least just dump me at the front door?”

“I don’t know,” Semi said. “Should I have?”

 

Shirabu’s voice softened, he tightened his grip on Semi’s jacket, “no.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Good.  Semi thought, because he would  never have left him alone and drunk at the bar. He wanted to say so much more, but they were standing in front of a bedroom door, Shirabu’s hand resting on the doorknob. 

“I-um, I’m good here,” Shirabu said, looking down at the floor. He seemed slightly more sober, but he was nowhere near functional, and was incredibly red in the cheeks and ears. 

“Ah,” Semi wasn’t even sure when he was originally planning on leaving. “Right.”

 

He took a step backwards but Shirabu grabbed his sleeve. 

“Look if you need something else, I can help, it’s fine-“ Semi began.

“Shut up,” Shirabu’s voice was a low murmur as he cut Semi off. He pulled Semi by the sleeve down to his face and pushedhis lips against Semi’s. 

Semi lost his words immediately. The memory of Shirabu’s soft lips on his flooded back into his mind but was soon overridden by the sensation of the kiss. He tasted like tequila, pressing his uncoordinated lips against Semi’s. The kiss was incredibly sloppy, barely lined up so that Shirabu kissed more of the Semi’s bottom lip than anything else—the kind that made every muscle in Semi’s body relax, ruthlessly dragging him in for more. 

 

Shirabu’s hand still gripped Semi’s sleeve as the kiss ended way too soon. Semi was left standing there, in front of Shirabu, both surgeons shaken, however the shorter if the two—shaken, drunk, and incredibly attractive. 

 

They stood there, in front of Shirabu’s bedroom door.

 

“Um,” Shirabu stuttered, his face now a brighter shade of red. “Thanks—for everything.”

“Yeah.”

They stood there for a second, maybe two, staring at each other. Finally Shirabu let go of his sleeve and Semi stepped back. 

He turned to leave, awkwardly spinning around on his heels. Semi felt dizzy, like the world around him was tipping to the side and everything around him was sliding around. He took deep breaths, his lips still tingling from the kiss—he hoped the feeling would linger for a while longer. 

They didn’t even say goodbye; neither of them said a word.

Semi was about to take a step down the stairs when the sound of the door opening made him freeze. Every muscle in his bodystiffened as he listened to the jingle of keys and the slam of the door, followed by footsteps.

 

The first thought that ran through Semi’s abandoned mind made him tense even more. The awkward situation only got worse the longer he thought about it. Semi and Shirabu alone, Semi sober and Shirabu drunk. The ultimate misunderstanding that could only lead to chaos. 

Roommate.


	7. Miracle Tumor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semi’s situation has him reminded of his time in highschool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOUNJOUR!  
> Hello my friends, long time no see! I am soooooo sorry about taking so long to post but I am finally back. I promise that I am still committed to this fic, and there still is quite a ways to go!  
> I’m currently on vacation in France, so I will be back to a regular schedule in about a week. 
> 
> Also for all of you artists out there, any artwork of this fic would actually be the best thing in the world. So if you ever do decide to do some doodling, I would feel blessed to see it!  
> Tumblr - swimminginnoodles  
> Instagram - _instantotaku_ (it’s private but if u request to follow I’ll accept)
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter.

When Semi turned towards the staircase, Shirabu’s roommate was already in front of him. Unfortunately, Semi did recognize the person standing there, his expression confused expression furrowing his eyebrows. Shirabu said he had two roommates, one of which was someone he knew—Yahaba Shigeru. 

Yahaba’s confusion began to change. The corner of his eye twitched slightly as he slowly surveyed the situation. Semi quickly glanced behind him, checking to make sure that Shirabu hadn’t disappeared into his room. Of course he stood there leaning on the doorframe—drunk as hell.

“Uh-“ Shirabu was actually laughing. “This is so awkward.”

 

“I’m sorry I‘m just going to leave,” Semi breathed.

 

“No,” Yahaba’s voice was sharp. “Obviously there’s something going on here, maybe I should leave.”

 

“It’s fine I’ll go-“

 

Yahaba cut him off. It was quite clear his temper was rising, “but, uh, my roommate here seems to be a little drunk. Either of you care to explain that?”

 

“My interns suck,” Shirabu slurred.

 

“Yeah so do mine, I’m asking Dr. Semi Eita over here.” Yahaba turned his head towards Semi. He was exceptionally smart, studying under Oikawa meant that they shared the same medical field. 

 

“Look he was drunk and alone at the bar and I gave him a ride home,” Semi argued. “That’s all.”

 

“Really?” Yahaba snapped. “Why would he be at Ukai’s alone? Because it looks like you-“

 

“Shigeru shut up!” Shirabu yelled. “I was with Akaashi, he left to go save some dying babies, I was alone. Semi took me home. That’s all. You can relax—I don’t sleep with every guy that walks into this house.”

 

The comment stung Semi a little. He thought about the possibility of previous hook-ups and winced when he realized that ‘possibility’ wasn’t necessary. 

Semi was being unfair, of course he’d had his ownshare of hook-ups with both guys and girls (he was, in fact, very bisexual) so it was unreasonable for him to judge Shirabu, or get jealous. 

 

Yahaba paused. Semi knew he was stern with the interns, but he didn’t know of the parent-like attitude he seemed to have with his friends. It was nice to know that Shirabu had someone looking after him.

 

Yahaba sighed. He turned towards Shirabu and opened the bedroom door. 

“Just get out,” Yahaba mumbled, ushering Shirabu into the room. “And... thanks for watching out for my lightweight roommate.”

 

When Semi got back into his car, he quickly started the engine, but hesitated to actually drive away. His mind desperately struggled to process the night’s events. He’s a freaking brain surgeon, he thought that after eight years of college he’d have his life together. Apparently not.

Semi groaned and slammed his forehead into his steering wheel before driving home.

 

 

 

Semi didn’t speak to Shirabu until about a month after their semi-drunk encounter. In fact, he barely even saw the smart mouthed resident; it was an incredibly large hospital after all, and the neuro floor was nowhere near the cardio floor. Shirabu had finished his neuro rotation and moved on to the other specialties. 

Semi didn’t understand why the hospital was so pushy about making residents rotate onto every service in the entire hospital. Sure, he understood why interns and first year residents would need to gain experience in every field of medicine; but, residents like Shirabu, who are incredibly talented and committed to a specific specialty, shouldn’t have to spend more time on other services. Although Semi did like having Shirabu on his service from time to time. He may be a cardio worshiper, but his talent expanded into several other specialties as well—including neuro. 

 

Semi was looking over a patient’s chart when his pager startled him with its raucous vibrating. He shoved the patient chart back into the file and twisted to glance at the pager on his hip. 

He was being paged to the ER. 

Finally something interesting. 

Semi spun around from the nurses station and ran to the elevator. 

 

When he finally shoved his way through the thick double doors, Semi was called into a trauma room by an Emergency room nurse. 

There were several nurses, but only one other surgeon in the room. Iwaizumi was head of trauma, which meant he practically lived in the ER—the best trauma surgeon Semi has ever known. After spending two years as a military surgeon, Iwaizumi was flawless under pressure: fast, precise, decisive, and incredibly creative. The trauma nurse, Terushima, was taking the vitals of a patient Semi didn’t recognize right away, but it clicked as soon as he saw her face. 

 

“Saito Kana, 32 year old female. Diagnosed with an astrocytoma by Dr. Semi and Dr. Oikawa a month ago, has been on chemo therapy for three weeks, and is scheduled for a craniotomy in two months,” Iwaizumi filled the room in, even through Semi was aware of the situation. 

 

“Hello Dr. Semi, long time no see.” 

Semi didn’t need to ask if the patient was awake and responsive, she laid on the table uncomfortably staring straight up at the ceiling.

 

“Didn’t think I’d see you for a while Mrs. Saito,” Semi said warmly, walking over to his patient’s side as he quickly went over the vitals that were broadcasted on the monitor. “What’s going on?”

 

“Just a little spill at the supermarket, it’s really no big deal.” She couldn’t turn her head to look at him because of the c-spine brace, but she smiled anyways. 

 

“Paramedics said that she lost consciousness in the middle of the store. It could be fatigue from the chemotherapy, but it could also be from the tumor. You’re on the case so I paged you to take a look.” Iwaizumi said as he examined a cut on her forearm. “I also paged Tooru because he’d be pissed if I didn’t page him when his patient is in my ER.”

 

“Ah,” Semi said lightheartedly, “the perks of dating the head of trauma.”

Iwaizumi laughed at the comment. Though it was true, Oikawa gets a lot of the head trauma cases. Mostly because he was head of Neuro, but dating the person who runs the ER probably helped too. 

 

As if on cue, Oikawa walked into the trauma room. 

“Mrs. Saito I was hoping I wouldn’t see you for a while!” Oikawa said, joining Semi and Iwaizumi at the patient’s side. He was so charming; always incredibly natural around patients. They loved him. 

 

“I’m telling you all, I’m fine,” She said.

 

“We’ll be the ones to decide that, Mrs. Saito,” Iwaizumi said. 

 

“Dr. Oikawa your boyfriend may be hot but he’s very bossy! You should tell him I’m fine and send me home!” 

 

Semi was running his light-pen in and out of the patient’s eyes, checking to make sure her pupils were responsive. The pupils of his patient’s golden-brown eyes grew and shrank in response to the light, and she was able to easily follow Semi’s pen with her eyes. Everything looked relatively normal, except for the fact that she passed out in the middle of a grocery store. 

 

Semi turned to Oikawa, “pupils are equal and responsive, but she lost consciousness and fell in a store.”

 

He nodded. “You’re going to have to humor us with a few tests Mrs. Saito.” He turned to Terushima. “Order a head CT, and page my resident, Dr. Yahaba. And whatever resident Dr. Semi chose for the case.”

Terushima picked up the wall phone and turned to look at Semi. He waited as Semihesitated to give him the resident’s name.

 

“Uh, Dr. Shirabu.” He turned back to his patient and pulled the gurney over so the patient could be transported. He knew Terushima would respond.

 

“Really?” The blond ER nurse smirked, dialing specific numbers into the wall. “Isn’t he like, cardio crazy?”

 

Semi huffed, “it’s an interesting case.” 

 

“Alright,” the tease in Terushima’s voice was quite evident. 

 

———————————————————

 

“How’s the baby?” Oikawa asked, as he and Semi helped their patient into the CT machine. 

 

“Beautiful,” Kana said. “She cries a lot, and she’s always hungry, but she’s absolutely beautiful. And exhausting.” 

 

“You can’t have a baby without sacrificing sleep,” Oikawa laughed. He was so natural with patients. “I remember I was twelve when my sister had her baby, so I witnessed it first hand.” 

 

“True that,” Kana laughed. 

 

 

As Oikawa and Semi sat in the screening room, the CT machine whirred, slowly scanning the inside of their patient’s head. The image of her brain began to generate on the computer screen, emerging piece by piece. The room went quiet between the two neurosurgeons; they both concentrated on the monitors. Expect the worst hope for the best. Soo enough, their team of surgeons grew when Shirabu and Yahaba entered the room. 

 

“Took you long enough!” Oikawa exasperated, turning towards his resident. “Mrs. Saito could be actively dying!”

 

“Is she?” Yahaba rolled his eyes. 

 

“Not yet,” Semi answered for him.

Oikawa turned and observed the scans. The same tumor Semi had stared at for so long was imaged on the screen. The same tumor that snaked through the cerebral cortex, and branched out into almost every single section of the brain. 

The butterfly tumor was twisted in every direction, same as it was a month ago; however, it was larger now. 

 

“It’s bigger,” Shirabu spoke first. Semi looked up from the computer screen at the resident, and for a moment he made eye contact. The sound of his voice was almost foreign after not speaking to him for so long. It was nice to hear him again—even if his voice was laced with disappointment.

He looked tired. Shirabu looked tired when they last saw each other a month ago, but now he looked like a good night’s sleep was miles away. His tawny brown hair was slightly longer, still straight and silky, the way it was when Semi had kissed him what felt like ages ago—though it was messier now. His scrubs still fit loosely around his thin frame, outlined by his classic white surgical coat. 

 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Semi muttered. “She’s been on aggressive chemotherapy and radiation—the tumor should be shrinking.”

 

“I guess the cancer must be more aggressive,” Oikawa sighed. “We’ll have to switch her to Temzolomine for chemo, and I’d like to admit her.”

 

“Admit her?” Yahaba asked. “She can’t go home, doesn’t she have a newborn baby?”

 

“I think her removal surgery just got changed to be a lot sooner.”

 

Semi stared at the scans while Shirabu and Yahaba brought the patient to a room. He was frustrated. If the chemo wasn’t doing anything, they’d have to operate soon, meaning that the tumor won’t be any smaller. That would bring the risk of death towards the top of possible complications during surgery. It was already an incredibly risky operation; if they didn’t kill her they could damage any part of her brain—considering that the tumor had invaded all sections. One mistake could kill their patient, or impair her for the rest of her life. 

 

Semi didn’t like those odds. 

 

—————————

 

“My day sucks!” 

Semi lazily poked at his lunch as he listened to Yamagata complain about his interns, and then his girlfriend, and then the nurses in his OR. 

He couldn’t keep his mind off of his astrocytoma case. That  really  sucked.

 

A young, previously healthy mother of a newborn diagnosed with a tumor so complicated she had similar odds of winning the lottery and getting out of her surgery completely fine. And she had a family, a new one. 

Chances are, that kid won’t have a mother growing up. 

She probably won’t even get to see her kid go to kindergarten, much less high school, prom, drivers ed. Semi thought about his own mother, and how she’d been there for all of it. Even when his father refused to show up when Semi had taken another boy as his senior prom date. The kid needed her mom, and it was their job to make sure that happened, even if the odds are against them. 

It was either  definitely die of cancer, or take a chance and  probably die in surgery. Kana Saito was aware of the risks and the odds, but she was willing to take a chance, and maybe see her daughter get married some day. 

 

“Uh, Eita are you listening?” Yamagata asked.

 

“Not really, no.” 

 

“What the hell is up with you? You’ve been completely zoned out for the past month. The only thing you ever focus on is surgery. It’s like you’re in another world for the rest of it!”

 

Semi sighed. Yamagata was one of his best friends, it was unfair of his to keep secrets, but admitting his feelings just made things all too real. He didn’t want to admit anything because he was unsure. Thinking of the smart mouthed resident made his heart pound in a way Semi didn’t recognize. He’d had flings and relationships before, but none of them felt quite like this one—which is why Semi was so damn confused every time he interacted with Shirabu. 

 

“Earth to Semi?”

 

Damn. Maybe he really should tell someone. 

No. Not a good idea. Semi wasn’t good with feelings. If they got out, they’d travel the hospital gossip into the minds of every nurse, surgeon, and patient within the four walls of the hospital. That would be one hell of a mistake. 

 

“I just have a really difficult tumor I’ve gotta remove,” he finally said, shoving more food between his chopsticks and into his mouth. 

 

“Semi you’re a brain surgeon. You literally do this everyday. I know you, and there’s something else on your mind,” Yamagata sat back in his chair, staring at him with his dark chocolate eyes, like some disapproving teacher. 

 

“Seriously Hayato. It’s nothing.” Semi’s tone was staring to get somewhat sharp with impatience. 

 

“Now you sound defensive! There is definitely something up, and I’m gonna find out one way or another. You might as well just tell me.” 

 

Semi groaned, pressing his face into his palms. If Yamagata got any louder, the comatose patient’s would hear him. Things only got worse when he heard someone pull out a chair and sit down next to Yamagata. He was tempted to get up and leave when he noticed the person sitting there was Tendou, of all people. 

He was surprisingly quiet, looking over the scans of some heart that needed his genius. Semi prayed that he wouldn’t notice Yamagata’s interrogation and join in. 

 

Semi’s luck must have run out, because sliding in next to him came Sugawara Koushi, dropping his lunch onto the table. 

 

“Daichi’s in surgery so I’m eating with you guys today,” Suga said in his warm, bubbly voice. It took him a while, but eventually the pretty surgeon noticed Yamagata staring at Semi and sensed the tension.

 

“Woah, Semi did you like kill Hayato’s entire family or something?” Suga laughed, but the sound quickly faded when neither of them responded. The awkward situation must have triggered something in Tendou’s strange mind because he quickly joined in.

 

“Looks more like he killed his dog,” the red head teased. 

 

Semi focused his gaze on his lunch, struggling to avoid the gazes of three gossipy surgeons. Especially Suga’s, the gaze married to the chief of surgery. 

 

“There’s something wrong with Semi,” Yamagata claimed. “And he won’t tell me what.”

 

“There is nothing wrong with me, he’s delusional.” 

 

“Oh there’s definitely something up with SemiSemi,” Tendou chided, chewing amusedly on his lunch. “It’s written all over that pretty little face of his.”

 

Semi really wanted to get up and leave; get out and go hide in the lab or something. But doing that would only prove everyone right. Of course there’s something up, but he was still set on convincing himself that there wasn’t—that everything was normal and there wasn’t some younger pretty boy who he  could not get out of his head .

Everything was not fine.

 

“Were in a building full of people who have much bigger problems than I do. There is definitely nothing up that is worth anyone’s time,” Semi said defiantly.

 

“Oh my god,” Suga almost squealed and Semi knew exactly what was coming. “It’s about a boy!” 

 

“It’s not-“ Semi was in real deep shit now. 

 

“It  is  a boy!” Yamagata exclaimed. 

 

Great . Now the whole hospital must know. Semi was staring to feeling like he was back in high school. He recalled an unwelcome memory of the some kid yelling ‘oh my god you’re bisexual!?’ To the entire school in junior high. He almost shivered at the thought. Semi did not like the thought of people knowing what was on his mind—it bothered him. 

 

“Who is it?” Yamagata continued to press on with the questions. “Do they work here?”

 

Semi didn’t answer.

 

“Okay, so they do work here. It’s gotta be an attending,” Suga said, completely forgetting about his lunch. Obviously Semi’s problems were more interesting.

 

“It’s not an-“ Semi started to argue but quickly realized his mistake.  Shit.

 

“Wow SemiSemi must have a taste for young boys eh?” Tendou teased. God if only Tendou knew that Semi had kissed his star resident. Twice. That would not go over well for Semi  or  Shirabu. 

 

“Are they a resident?” Yamagata asked. But when Semi didn’t answer he went even further. “Oh my god Eita it’s not an intern is it? You  cannot  date an intern.”

 

“It’s not an intern!” Semi snapped. 

 

Suga let out a small ‘ouhh’ as their table got quiet.

 

He could practically hear the gears that had been turning in Tendou’s head click. The crazy cardio surgeon did not give a shit about who Semi dated, despite his constant teasing and interrogation. However he had a strange sense of intuition in the OR and out. Tendou definitely suspected something.

 

“For god’s sake—“ Semi pushed out his chair and stood up. He did not suffer through high school, college, and med school to get the same drama in the  hospital where he worked as a neurosurgical attending. Being bisexual in high school was hell, and he was done with people sticking their annoying noses into his own damn business. He knew they all meant well, but people obsessed over his relationships because they weren’t always straight. It was as if his love-life was some sort of circus and everyone wanted to watch it. 

 

Semi threw his lunch into the trash and left the cafeteria. He needed to cut something.

——————————

 

Semi found himself walking towards the ER, wandering through the halls of supply closets and on-call rooms. It was relatively quiet; there were a few people waiting for stitches or complaining of stomach pains, but no adrenaline rushing traumas being rolled into the ER.For now.

 

He sat at the desk and glanced at his pager. For the moment his schedule was completely clear for the next hour. No surgeries or procedures had been scheduled with his name on the board. So Semi’s only hope was for a massive head trauma to roll in between the two large doors in front of the ambulance bay. 

 

He didn’t even need to do any charts, or scut. Attendings never did. Residents and interns work themselves into sleep deprivation all day, every day, and in return they get a very small paycheck and a shit ton of information. They do scut and charts and they kiss attending ass until they too, can finally be at the top of the surgical food chain. Semi had been there; it certainly was not fun, but a very small part of him missed the rush and anxiety he felt as a resident. He missed the total awe he felt when he saw his attending perform an incredible surgery. He missed the thrill.

 

“Bored?” 

 

Iwaizumi’s voice brought Semi out of his daze. 

 

“A little, yeah,” Semi said.

 

“Yeah, I know we aren’t really supposed to say this, but it’s slow today,” Iwaizumi sighed. 

 

“I don’t have any surgeries for a whole hour. This hasn’t happened in months.” 

 

“Don’t you have like, a once in a life time brain tumor in one of your patients?” Iwaizumi asked, the hint of laughter in his voice. 

 

“Yeah, it’s crazy, the tumor is some sort of genius. It’s made itself into a perfect shape like it knows exactly what makes our jobs hard and—“

 

“I’m gonna cut you off here because I get all of the neuro talk from Oikawa at home, and I don’t need it from you too,” Iwaizumi picked up a chart and turned towards the waiting room. “If your really that bored, I heard that  _the_ Dr. Hiroko Shirabu is in the hospital. She must be doing some sort of seminar or something.”

 

Semi felt his stomach drop. His mind immediately retreated to his conversation with a very drunk resident. If Shirabu’s mom was in the hospital, it was  not  because she was sharing her vast knowledge of surgery. 

 

“Where?” 

 

“Uh, the cardio wing I think.”

 

Semi dropped the pen he was playing with and walked out of the ER as quickly as he could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if any of you guys are interested in making some rad artwork of this fic, share it! ❤️❤️
> 
> Leave a kudos and a comment if u enjoy, I’ll go back to eating croissants now.


	8. Childhood Hauntings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shirabu’s mother is taken to the hospital for medical issues, causing the pressure on the hound doctor to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> I hope you’re all having a fantastic day. Enjoy this next chapter of my fic and feel free to leave a comment at the end.  
> :)

> Semi unfortunately ran into way too many helpless interns who had way too many dumb questions on his way to the cardio wing. Interns were always so clueless when it came to the simplest things. Too afraid to make a mistake, they cling to their residents and attendings. The best interns were the ones that figured things out on their own. 

 

“I can’t get Mr. Aiko to take his meds.”

 

“Figure it out, Dr. Kunimi.”

 

He couldn’t make it ten feet before running into another one.

 

“I can’t find a vein for my patients IV.”

 

“Keep trying, or ask a nurse.”

 

The transition from med-student to intern was brutal. It was like throwing a child into the deep-end, saying ‘swim!’ and hoping for the best. Most interns drop out after a year.But it’s totally worth it. 

 

———-

 

Finally the elevator chimed and Semi stepped out onto the cardio floor. 

It was as if the temperature suddenly dropped below zero. The tension in the air was expressed by everyone around him, it was quiet at first, as Semi made his way down the hall towards the center of the cardio thoracic department. 

 

Soon enough he could hear the screaming. 

Semi’s pace quickened as he followed the high-pitched sound of a women screaming. Eventually he found himself at the patient elevator, watching the commotion from a group of doctors and nurses standing nearby.

 

There were several nurses pushing a gurney through the elevator, struggling to keep the patient still. On the gurney was an older woman, short, but with the presence of a military commander. Her eyes were sharp and golden-brown, and her hair was thin and wispy. Although it was aged, the hair gave her away—the same straight, tawny-golden brown hair that fell to her shoulders in perfect layers. 

She fought against the hold of the four nurses—who looked very pissed off—as if she was an inmate being dragged back into her cell after a fight. And the screaming; god, she was loud for a small lady. 

 

“Someone hold her arms down!” Yelled one of the nurses.

 

“ _Amateurs! You’re all stupid amateurs! Get your damn hands off of me!_ ”  She screamed, her face flushing cherry red as she spat the words out at the top of her lungs. She flung her arms and bared her teeth like an animal.

 

“This lady’s crazy,” whispered a nurse from beside him. 

 

Not just some lady. This was a surgical legend. This was Hiroko Shirabu. 

Shirabu.

As if on cue, Shirabu and Tendou turned the corner, rolling a patient along with them. At the sight of his mother, Shirabu froze, stopping dead in his tracks near the corner of the hallway. 

He stared at his psychotic mother in absolute horror. The expression was something Semi had never seen on him before, similar to that of a child who was about to get heavily scolded. The resident began to turn and walk away from the scene but his mother caught sight of him first. 

 

“ _GET HIM OUT OF HERE!_ ” She screamed, directing her razor sharp gaze towards Shirabu. He shrunk backwards, staring at the floor.

 

“Get who-?” A nurse began to ask but she was cut off.

 

“ _KENJIRO, YOU KNOW I CANT DEAL WITH YOU WHILE IM AT WORK! GET THE HELL OUT AND DON’T BOTHER ME IN THE HOSPITAL!_ ” 

By now her face was so red, Semi thought she might pass out. Part of him wanted her to pass out. The Alzheimer’s was starting to show. It was clear that Hiroko thought she was still a surgeon at this hospital, and that Kenjiro was still a kid. 

 

“What the hell?” Tendou mumbled, looking from Hiroko to his resident. He was clearly as confused as everyone in the room. 

 

Semi couldn’t help but wonder if this was what she was like when Shirabu was young.

She was dilusional, but still incredibly mean.

Shirabu shrunk even more, attempting to hide behind the hall corner. Everyone in the area was staring at him, and it was quite clear that Shirabu’s face was also bright red—but defiantly not from anger.

 

“ _GET HIM OUT!_ ” Hiroko hissed again. 

 

It didn’t take much more; Shirabu spun around and quickly exited the area. The crowd of people, including Tendou and their patient watched as Shirabu fled down the hall. 

 

Shit.

 

Semi didn’t need much convincing to get him to follow Shirabu down the hall. He fumbled his way out of the crowd of nurses and brushed past Tendou. The sound of Hiroko hissing and spitting at the doctors and nurses died down—they must have finally sedated her. 

Semi felt his heart racing, but he knew that Shirabu would be a total mess, or at least he should be. With the way she screamed at him, making Shirabu shrink back in fear, Semi could only guess that this was a regular thing for Shirabu as a kid. 

 

Semi found him in a supply closet. He was sitting against a rack of medical supplies, hugging his knees to his chest and burying his face in his palms. When Semi gently closed the door, the room dimmed, but there was still enough light for him to notice the shaking. 

 

“Hey are you alright?” Semi asked tentatively.

_What a dumb question_.  Semi scolded himself.

Shirabu didn’t answer, just continued to hide his face in his hands. 

 

Semi sighed. Shirabu was exhausted, and having his crazy mother in the hospital would bring him more stress. Semi walked over and sat down on the floor next to the shaking resident. He didn’t say anything; he just sat close enough that Shirabu knew he was there. 

 

After a few moments of silence, and many of Shirabu’s shaky breaths, finally one of them spoke.

 

“I don’t want my mom to be alone when she dies,” Shirabu sounded like he was barely hanging on, his voice was glass on the verge of shattering. His breathing was shaky and scattered. Semi knew he was holding it in, holding in years of stress and pressure. “She hates me.” 

 

“ She doesn’t-“ Semi started, but it seemed as though talking just broke Shirabu’s barriers.

 

“She can’t have me around! I remind her of the mistake she made—me! I’m her mistake, she wishes she never had me. But she has nobody but me, and now she’s going to die alone and she won’t let me be there!” Shirabu was shaking. The tears followed quickly. 

 

Thick tears began to roll down his cheeks, leaving trails down from his very tired eyes. Shirabu pushed his bangs out of his face and tried to wipe them away, but they were only replaced. He took hitched, shuddered breaths, barely able to take in enough oxygen. 

 

Seeing Shirabu cave was like a knife being stuck into Semi’s gut. He didn’t care about the tears or the snot or the shaking; he cared about the stress he knew was there. Semi knew the stress of a surgeon—he knew the feeling of life and death in his hands. But he didn’t know the stress of having a genius mother, who was horrible in every way mother could be. Semi only knew that it was hurting Kenjiro. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Semi whispered, reaching out and wrapping his arm around Shirabu’s narrow shoulders. The resident leaned inand rested his head on Semi’s shoulder as he sobbed. So Semi sat there with his arm around him, rubbing his hand gently on Shirabu’s shoulder. And he would do it all day, if that’s what Shirabu needed. 

 

There was something about him. Something that made Semi feel so awkward, despite his usual smooth demeanor. So unbalanced like he had no oxygen. Shirabu made him feel like he was way up in the altitude. Like he was some stupid high schooler all over again. He was a brain surgeon; but, being around Shirabu made him unable to think straight. Something about Shirabu made him need him like a drug.

Maybe this is what it‘s like to actually  _feel_ . 

And it hurt. But he loved it.

 

He didn’t want it to end. Even when the crying faded into quiet sniffing and hitched breaths, he wanted to be there with him longer. Semi wanted him to be okay.

And he did stay there. For quite a while, Shirabu just sat there, leaning into Semi and resting his head on his shoulder. It could have been just ten minutes, or it could have been an hour; Semi couldn’t tell.

Finally after a final shaking breath, Shirabu sat up and ran the heel of his palm over his eyes until the tears had been wiped away. 

 

“I’m okay,” Shirabu said, his voice quiet. Then he averted his eyes, took a deep breath in and added, “thank you.”

 

“Okay,” was all Semi could say.

 

It took a while before either of them stood up. Shirabu pulled himself up with the rack of medical supplies. Semi stood up too, running a hand through his silvery blonde hair. 

 

“Hey,” Semi said. Shirabu turned from the door and looked at him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

And he meant it, or at least he wanted to. 

 

“Yeah.”

———————————————————

 

Shirabu crept down the cardio wing, trying to be as invisible as possible. He didn’t want anyone noticing him, and asking about the incident with his mom. Nobody seemed to notice him, or at least nobody acknowledged him, thankfully. What Shirabu really wanted was to go home and sleep for an entire day. He was freaking exhausted, and he didn’t want to be in the same building as his mother. 

 

She wasn’t as bad when he visited her in the nursing home. Most of the time she didn’t recognize him, or she just thought he was an old friend, but being in the hospital she used to work in must have triggered some memories. Either way he felt like he had to make sure she was okay—she was in the hospital after all. 

Shirabu didn’t want to talk to anyone, but he really didn’t want his mother to notice him and freak out again. At least she wasn’t lucid, although seen as a good thing by most people, his mother coming back to reality would be the worst thing that could ever happen to Shirabu. 

 

Shirabu didn’t go in, when he finally found his mother’s hospital room. Instead he stood outside, looking in through the window at his heavily sedated mother. She wasn’t asleep, but she stared aimlessly at the wall, obviously too drugged to notice her son outside. That was okay with him. 

Shirabu took a few minutes to just observe her. She seemed the same, the familiar blank expression on her face. Ever since the Alzheimer’s progressed past the second year, she looked lost all the time. She didn’t know who she was or where she was, and she had no clue what she had been in the past. 

As a kid, Shirabu always saw his mom as someone who knew what she was doing. Even though his dad left, she still did everything the same way she had done before, as if nothing changed. It was always her work, which was probably why Shirabu’s dad left, if he had to guess. She was a surgeon before anything else and chose the hospital over everyone and everything else in her life. Including Shirabu and his dad. 

 

Finally Shirabu shifted his attention towards the chart hanging on the door. He hesitantly reached for the chart, gingerly opening it to look at the notes scribbled in the nurses messy handwriting. 

Heart arrhythmias. 

She’d have surgery in a few days. 

 

Okay, so she wouldn’t be in the hospital for too long. He looked down at the bottom of the paper where the assigned surgeons were listed. 

Dr. Tendou Satori and Dr. Kawanishi Taichi.

Obviously there was a different resident listed. Shirabu felt at ease to know the surgeons who would be operating on his mother were good ones. 

 

Shirabu continued to stare at the chart when he was startled by a voice behind him. The anxiety from earlier obviously still lingered, because he almost jumped when someone spoke.

 

“So your mom, uh, she’s got Alzheimer’s.” It was Taichi. He spoke awkwardly, which was actually amusing for someone so naturally unamused. “Did you know?”

 

“Yeah,” murmured Shirabu, his voice still a little shaky; hopefully not enough to notice. 

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Shirabu was hoping he’d be left alone, but of course, nothing went his way.

 

“Well, well would you look at that! There are two Shirabu’s in the building. And one of them knows how to do surgery!” Tendou snickered, walking up behind them and placing his hand on Shirabu’s shoulder. 

Shirabu knew Tendou was trying to lighten the mood, so he scoffed at the joke. 

 

“Dr. Kawanishi, go get Hirokos labs please,” Tendou said, keeping his gaze fixed through the patient room window. 

 

“I can just send an intern to-“

 

“Go!” Tendou snapped. 

 

Kawanishi rolled his eyes and left Tendou and Shirabu alone outside the patient room. 

 

“Are you okay?” Tendou asked. His tone was softer now that it’s lost the usual tease. Tendou may be unpredictable, annoying, and maybe a little crazy, but he was a good teacher. He might actually care.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Shirabu didn’t make eye contact. It was bad enough that his own mother screamed at him in front of the entire cardio wing, but having his mentor pity him was excruciating. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Great, now everyone felt bad for him. It’s not like he’s the only person in the world to have a psycho mom. Just because his was a genius didn’t make his family special—if you could call them a family at all. Shirabu sighed. He was tired of the comments on him and his mom. 

 

_So are you going to be a surgeon like your mother?_

_Will you be going into general surgery like your mother?_

_You must feel like you have some big shoes to fill, huh Kenjiro?_

 

It was annoying. He didn’t need anyone feeling bad for him about his psychotic mother. Surgeons didn’t make good parents to begin with, his sucked. So what? 

He especially didn’t want Semi Eita’s pity. He didn’t want to think about him in the first place, and yet there he was, sitting right next to him during his mental breakdown. Shirabu thought about how pathetic he must have looked. 

 

Though it did make him feel better. 

 

Semi was something Shirabu tried really freaking hard to keep out of his mind. He was distracting, and thinking about him made Shirabu lose track of time. He was too smart, too talented, too caring, and too hot for Shirabu to stand a chance at getting him out of his head. And the fact that Semi was there for him was inconvenient, despite how much Shirabu liked it. 

 

Shirabu went about the rest of his day as normal. He tried as hard as he could to avoid the area where his mom was, and after the scene she made this morning, Shirabu didn’t think anyone would question him. And they didn’t. In fact, Shirabu didn’t get any comments on his mother for a while, till he had some time to himself. 

 

Shirabu found himself in the NICU, staring at the rows of newborn babies from a chair near the wall. He sat quietly as Akaashi checked the vitals of a small baby boy. He liked spending time with Akaashi because the pretty, dark haired resident didn’t ask too many questions. He understood what it was like to hate people who were happy all the time—even if they both knew that they were just jealous. Akashi specialized in pediatrics too, which meant he was often found in the NICU, and babies didn’t talk. 

The two residents were quiet at first, until Akaashi broke the silence Shirabu enjoyed so much. 

 

“I heard about your mom,” Akaashi said quietly, still keeping his focus on the newborn he was standing over. 

 

“Of course you did,” Shirabu’s voice was salty, he crossed his arms across his chest and skunk down in his chair. 

 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Akaashi asked, “about the Alzheimer’s.”

 

“She didn’t want me to,” Shirabu sighed, thinking about the conversation he had with her after she was diagnosed. 

 

“Oh.”

 

“My mother hates me, by the way. I’m a huge disappointment,” Shirabu said it almost jokingly. 

 

“Why? You were a straight A’ student, got into some of the best colleges in the country, and now you’re one of the best residents in an incredibly competitive teaching hospital. How could she be disappointed in you? Is it cuz your gay?”

 

Shirabu laughed weakly. “No, she couldn’t care less about that. It’s because I’m not like her. Might I remind you that my mother published work  and  won awards before she was even an attending? I’m not famous like her. I’m  ordinary. ”

 

“Oh please Shirabu , you have one of the best cardio thoracic surgeons in the country as your mentor. With Tendou’s recommendation you could get a job at any hospital you wanted.”

 

“Thanks I guess.”

 

Akaashi only nodded, obviously keeping his questions about Shirabu’s mother to himself, which he was thankful for. It’s not like Akaashi didn’t know anything about having shitty parents, he might even know what that’s like more than Shirabu does. 

 

According the the chart, the baby Akaashi was monitoring was born five weeks earlier than he was supposed to—his original due-date was still a few weeks away. Brought into the world and immediately put through hell. 

Shirabu hated working in Pediatrics because it was depressing. Kids didn’t deserve to be diagnosed with terminal diseases. They always had so much hope and light, but they were always running out of time. It wasn’t fair. 

 

Shirabu got up from his chair and joined Akaashi beside the newborn. For some reason looking at a baby made everything clearer. Maybe because babies were so innocent and pure; they hadn’t yet experienced the shit this world would put them through.

 

“He’s sick and he hasn’t even been alive for two weeks,” Akaashi sighed. 

 

“He doesn’t deserve this,” Shirabu mumbled. 

 

“None of them do.”

 

Quiet again. The baby cooed and babbled, but Shirabu was quiet as Akaashi flipped through the kid’s chart, scribbling notes in here and there. 

 

“I kissed an attending.” Shirabu blurted. Finally raising his head to meet Akaashi’s dark eyes. Akaashi froze, glancing around them to check their surroundings for anyone listening in. 

 

“You did what?” 

 

“You heard me,” Shirabu said. 

 

“Okay well I’m going to need more details than that.” Akaashi checked the baby’s monitor one more time before moving on to the one across the room. “Who?”

 

“I’m not saying who,” Shirabu said stubbornly. Akaashi scoffed and rolled his eyes.

 

“Fine, then at least tell me  _something.”_

“ _Fine_. ” Shirabu said, then paused. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say. Akaashi was one of his best friends, and unlike Yahaba and Nishinoya, he didn’t live with him. And Kawanishi would tease him till the end of time if he ever knew.

 

“Well did you just kiss him or did it go farther than that?” Akaashi pressed. Shirabu pursed his lips,  now  he’d really gotten Akaashi interested. It’s not like Akaashi hadn’t messed around with the head Ortho surgery several times, and  he  was an attending. But Shirabu wasn’t going to bring that up.

 

“It was just a kiss.”

 

“Well did you like it?” Akaashi interrogated him like they were a couple of teenage girls. “Don’t tell me you have feelings for this mystery attending now.”

 

Shirabu stiffened. Of course he liked it. He liked it a lot. Feelings were something Shirabu struggled with immensely. He rarely allowed himself to have feelings for someone else—every time he did, it blew up in his face. But Semi was impossible to stop thinking about. So as much as he disliked it, Shirabu probably did have feelings for him. Whatever that meant.

 

“I, uh, I guess.” Shirabu stuttered. “Yeah.”

 

Akaashi looked at him in disbelief. 

 

“It’s not like anything can happen,” Shirabu continued. “He’s an attending. I’m a resident. We all know how that goes.”

 

“Still. You kissed an attending,” Akaashi was almost laughing. 

 

“I know.” 

 

They stood there, staring at someone else’s bug-eyed baby as it slept. They rarely slept in the NICU, which was probably the reason Akaashi was always so exhausted. Being on the newborn peds rotation stressed Shirabu out. Think taking care of your own newborn is hard? Imagine taking care of 20 sick newborns, who aren’t even your own children. It was hell.

But staring at the innocent baby was actually kind of relaxing. Seeing someone with less problems than he had was somewhat refreshing. That is, until Akaashi’s attending swooped into the room, and ended Shirabu’s very short off-time in the blink of an eye. 

 

Dr. Sugawara looked out of breath, except his face didn’t have that crazy panicked look. He was grinning stupidly.

 

“Akaashi go prep Miyano Haru for surgery,” Suga breathed, “we found her a heart!”

 

 

Akaashi left the room in a good mood. 

 

Shirabu left the room wishing he could scrub in on a cool surgery like that.

 

—————————

 

Semi was exhausted. He felt like every limb on his body was made of lead, begging him to go climb into his bed and sleep. Back to back, four hour surgeries had drained every ounce of energy he had like a leech. But being on-call meant that he couldn’t go home; it just proved the fact that Semi literally lived in the hospital.

He was just about ready to die. 

 

Semi dragged himself into an on-call room and collapsed onto one of the small, uncomfortable mattresses. He didn’t even bother taking off his shoes or the white lab coat, despite the uncomfortable way his stethoscope jammed into his side from his pocket. Semi passed out almost instantly. 

To finally get off of his feet and close his eyes, must have felt better than any of the successful surgeries Semi had completed. 

Of course, that wasn’t exactly true. But Semi was really fucking tired. 

 

Semi managed to get maybe an hour of uninterrupted sleep before his pager went off and basically ruined his life. The tiny little box buzzed like a maniac, frantically dancing around the table beside him. 

Groaning, Semi reached over and slapped his hand over the pager, spinning it around to reveal the number it displayed. 

 

He was being paged 911 to the ER. Great.

Semi rolled off the bed and took a moment to run his fingers through his hair. 

 

 

After running through the hospital halls on one hour of sleep, Semi arrived in the ER only to find that the patient had died of other injuries. It looked like a nasty incident. 

The ER was otherwise rather empty. Iwaizumi had been right earlier, it was a slow day. Which was good for everyone who wasn’t a surgeon; but Semi was a surgeon, and he was disappointed his patient died. Despite the fact that Semi practically eats, breathes, and sleeps brain surgery, he never gets tired of it. 

 

Semi wasn’t about to go back to sleep now that he’d waken himself up running down the halls. Yawning, he turned to an intern standing nearby.

 

“Goshiki,” Semi said wearily.

 

“Yes sir?” The tall, dark haired intern said.

 

“I need a coffee.” Sighing, Semi leaned against the ER desk. “Please.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

To be honest, Semi didn’t really care about the formalities some of the interns went about using. If they were gonna kiss ass for surgeries, he’d rather them know what they’re doing than call him things like ‘sir’. At least Goshiki was smart and talented, even if he was awkward. The intern returned shortly after with Semi’s coffee and stared at him eagerly. Semi rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the amusement from showing on his face. Interns really were scalpel hungry.

 

“Don’t you have a life outside the hospital?” Semi asked.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Fine,” Semi took a step away from the desk. “I have a craniotomy tomorrow, you can assist.”

 

Satisfied, Goshiki grabbed a chart and scurried off to do more scut work.


	9. Ready, Set, Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semi has a heart-to-heart with his patient before taking on one of the most challenging tasks of his surgical career.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I hope you’re having a great day. 
> 
> If you’re enjoying the fic, please leave a kudos and let me know what you think in the comments—it really makes my day! 
> 
> Again, I don’t have any experience in the medical field, so I’m sorry if the hospital stuff isn’t exactly accurate but I try my best.   
> Enjoy :)

Semi began to wander out of the ER, when he passed a bed that caught his attention. The patterned curtain was pulled around the bed, concealing whoever was in the bay. It could have just been a patient, waiting for a doctor to come and examine them; but, when Semi paused for a moment, his curiosity heightened.

 

“ _Ow_.” 

 

Semi recognized the voice. He hesitated to pull back the curtain wrapping his hand around the smooth fabric that hung from the curved rod above him. Then he heard the voice again, and Semi couldn’t help but look behind.

 

Yanking back the curtain, Semi saw a thin resident sitting cross-legged on the ER bed. Shirabu slowly looked up at Semi when he heard the swish of the curtain sliding across the rod. 

Semi looked back, raising an eyebrow as he watched Shirabu place a needle down into a medical kit.

 

“What are you doing?” Semi asked, crossing his arms in front of him. 

 

Shirabu avoided eye contact, glancing to the side as he answered. 

“Drawing blood,” he mumbled, fumbling with the tourniquet tied around his upper arm. Semi smiled. 

 

“By yourself?” He questioned.

 

“Yeah.” 

Semi sighed. Shirabu was so stubborn, asking for help when it came to something personal was impossible for him. Shaking his head, Semi sat himself down on the ER bed next to Shirabu, closing the curtain behind him. He blindly reached for procedure gloves on the cart beside him, snapping them onto his hands and sliding the blood-draw kit closer to him. 

Shirabu was good at what he did, but Semi couldn’t imagine drawing your own blood was easy for anyone. 

 

“Give me your arm.” Semi held out his hand. When Shirabu hesitated he briefly waved at Shirabu’s arm, and the resident finally turned it over. His wrists and arm were thin, but not in an exactly fragile way.Semi noticed a few freckles dotted along Shirabu’s creamy skin.

 

Semi glanced up at his temporary patient. He didn’t need to tell Shirabu any of the normal instructions patients got when they had their blood drawn, he already knew them. 

Shirabu stuck out his arm and curled his fingers into a fist as Semi wiped his arm with antiseptic. Semi then reached for the needle and positioned it to go into Shirabu’s arm. 

 

“Can I ask why you’re drawing your own blood at two in the morning? In secret?” Semi asked as he stuck the needle into a vein and clicked the test tube to activate the vacuum. Shirabu winced, looking painfully away from the needle in his arm.

 

“If you don’t breath properly you’re going to pass out,” Semi chided. 

 

Shirabu breathed in shakily, ignoring the question for a while as Semi watched the test tubes fill with blood. 

Semi looked up and smirked. Shirabu was pouting again, the same way he did that one night. What he didn’t notice was the flush of red that had spread over Shirabu’s cheeks. 

 

“I’m testing for the Alzheimer’s gene.” Shirabu’s voice was quiet. 

 

“You want to know?” Semi asked, shocked.

 

“Not really. But I figured if I’m going to end up like my mom with nobody to dump me into a home, I might as well be expecting it.” 

 

“You don’t have to know, if you don’t want to,” Semi said, taking out the needle and replacing it with gauze. He pressed it onto Shirabu’s arm for a minute before taping it there.

 

“I don’t want to be caught off guard,” Shirabu argued, pulling the tourniquet off of his arm. 

Semi knew Shirabu was just afraid of being alone if it happened. He didn’t really know what to say to him. 

 

“It’ll be okay.” Semi pulled the procedure gloves off. “No use worrying about it unless you want to. Run the blood tests, but only look at the results if you’re sure you want to know.”

 

He dropped the test tubes into a plastic bag used for labs, and handed it to Shirabu. 

 

“You should go get some rest,” Semi smirked, “you look like crap.”

 

Shirabu rolled his eyes, and playfully punched Semi’s shoulder. “Thanks, Dr. pretty-face,” Shirabu laughed. 

 

———————————————————

 

“Good morning Mrs. Saito,” Semi said, herding a crowd of interns into the hospital room. The sun shown in through the window over the family of three; the new mother sitting in the hospital bed, cradling her newborn daughter, the father sitting in the chair by her side. It would have been a lovely picture, of the baby wasn’t hysterically crying, and the father didn’t have that horrible look of anxiety on his face. 

 

“Good morning Dr. Semi,” she said, shushing the baby with a bottle. She looked up at him and flashed Semi a worried grin. 

 

“Saito Kana, diagnosed with a grave IV astrocytoma, and scheduled for the removal today in OR 4,” Semi announced to the interns, “she’ll be monitored all day today. I want labs and scans of the tumor before we go in and take it out. That’s your job and if Mrs. Saito is anything other than comfortable I will find out and I will have you doing scut work for the rest of your internship.”

 

The interns all nodded fearfully before they scurried out of the room. Semi turned back to his patient, taking a brief look at the monitor above her. Everything was in the normal range for now, but even a small glitch could cancel the entire surgery. 

 

“You look like you’re more stressed than my husband over here,” Mrs. Saito said in her soft voice. 

 

“It’s my job to be stressed,” Semi laughed. 

The day had finally come when the monster tumor was to be taken out and Semi couldn’t be more anxious. Every surgeon prepared themselves for a huge surgery differently. He knew Oikawa was holed up in the library; Semi on the other hand would be hovering over his patient all day. Five hours till the surgery.

 

Mr. Saito rose from the chair. “I think I’m going to get something from the cafeteria.” He planted a kiss on Kana’s forehead and left the hospital room. 

 

Mrs. Saito watched him leave, sighing dreamily. 

“I wouldn’t be able to do this if I didn’t have him,” she said. 

Semi smiled, he was glad his patient seemed rather confident with the surgery. Patients who were more confident about the surgery have better results after their surgery. Maybe patients who were in love did better as well.

 

“You know, Dr. Semi, your life never really starts until you find that one person who makes it all worth it,” she said. Semi wasn’t very keen on conversations like this, so he tried to avoid any direct questions.

 

“Is that so?” He asked, noting something in the patient chart.

 

“Yep. Before I met my husband, I was just a girl trying to find a purpose to my life. I had a carrer and i had friends, but something was definitely missing.”

 

Semi just smiled and nodded. Sure, maybe to a lot of people a love life is important, but surgeons are different. Semi’s entire life was his career, he didn’t think he needed anything else. Semi turned to leave the room, avoid any awkward questions, but Kana got there first. 

 

“What about you?” She asked, her voice kind and whispery—perfect for a kindergarten teacher. Semi turned and gave her an innocent smile.

 

“What about me?” 

 

“Dr. Semi, you’re a incredibly attractive, kind, intelligent, successful young man, and your telling me there isn’t anyone you love?” Kana looked at him with that teacher-look, smiling warmly and dipping her head slightly to the side. “Or maybe there is someone, but you’re just too scared to do anything.”

 

Semi stuttered, nervously running his fingers through his hair, “I-um, I really just have work. Not much time for, uh, dating.”

 

Kana tutted. “Bingo. Dr. Semi if there is someone out there, and you know it, you can’t just wait. You have to take chances or nothing will ever happen.”

 

“Really, Mrs. Saito I should be worrying about things like brain tumors, and you need to rest. Don’t worry about me.”

 

“Come here.” Kana motioned to to the chair next to the hospital bed. Semi hesitated, but his patient must be one hell of a teacher, because he soon found himself sitting beside her. “I’m going to call you Eita now, because you’re going to have your hands in my brain soon and I think we should be on a first name basis.”

 

Semi laughed, “okay.”

 

“Now, I don’t know if there is someone in your life, but Eita, if there is you cannot wait for it. You can’t hide away and hope something will happen because it won’t,” she lectured. 

 

“And what if that person isn’t the one?” Semi asked, trying to keep a straight face as he forced his mind to stay away from a certain smart-mouthed resident.

 

“Then they aren’t the right one. And that’s okay because at least you tried. You aren’t supposed to know where your destination is, in life. But if you don’t get on every train that comes to your station, the chances that you’re going to miss the right one are higher. So get on the train, and even if the destination isn’t right, maybe the scenery along the way will be beautiful.” Kana smiled, looking down at her child who rested in her arms.

 

“You’re quite the poet, Mrs. Saito,” Semi remarked, beginning to stand from the chair. Kana quickly grabbed his wrist. 

 

“Eita, I don’t know if there is a train at your station right now, but if there is, promise me something. By the time I wake up for surgery, I want you to have taken the leap. And I want to hear all about it when I wake up okay?” She flashed him a warm smile, but at the mention of her surgery, there was a hint of sadness gleaming in her dark eyes. “Promise?”

 

There was a moment of quiet, before Semi sighed and nodded. “Okay, I promise.”

 

 

 

Semi left the patient room, his mind on a thousand different things at once. He headed down the hall, keeping his head down to avoid getting into a conversation with anyone else. The buzz of the hallways was so familiar to him. The phone ringing, rolling gurneys, and the way the medical conversations blended with the personal conversations. The hospital was chaotic at times, but walking through the halls slowed things down, made it more tranquil. 

 

 

The library was on the third floor, across from radiology, next to pathology. And of course, it was near the intern and resident lounges. Semi passed several residents sleeping on gurneys in the hallway, others sitting in the lounge. Semi wasn’t even sure where he was going. He was just walking, wherever his feet took him. Which ended up in front of the library, looking through the screened window in the dimmed library. 

Shirabu sat at a desk, his elbow resting on the desk and his head cradled in his hand. Shirabu’s silky hair spilled through his fingers, the tawny-brown strands falling out of his hand like liquid gold. His cheek squished against his palm, he squinted at the book lying open in front of him. Semi stood outside, wanting to go in, but he knew he shouldn’t. He knew that saying anything would make things worse, so he just stood outside. Shirabu didn’t notice him; before Semi knew, he was walking away, feeling his heart rate slow just a little. 

 

———————————————————

 

Semi’s eyes adjusted to the dim light of the scrub room. Oikawa and Yahaba were already scrubbing, running the sponge vigorously up and down their forearms, picking out every single fingernail. The hiss of the sink and the scrubbing were the only sounds filling the small scrub-room. Semi stood there for a moment, taking deep breaths. 

He wasn’t scared. Surgeries like these are what Semi’s worked his entire life for. 

 

Shirabu pushed open the door just as Oikawa slid into the operating room, thick chocolate hair tucked into his teal scrub-cap. That left Semi, Shirabu, and Yahaba alone in the scrub room. Awkwardly tucking his own silvery-blonde hair into his own dark purple scrub-cap, Semi joined Yahaba at the sink. Shirabu did the same.

Maybe it should have been awkward, maybe Yahaba would have said something, but he didn’t. Semi didn’t care right now—the only thing on his mind was that he was about to operate on an impossible tumor, with three very talented surgeons, and in Oikawa’s case, one of the best surgeons in the country. His awkward crush and the judgmental roommate, was actually at the bottom of his mind. He slipped the bands of the surgical mask behind his ears and adjusted it over his face. 

Semi wasn’t scared.

 

They would start by opening the cranium on both sides, Semi and Oikawa would resect the tumor at the same time. They’d have to avoid a multitude of vessels—part of the reason why the tumor was so smart, it was laced with vessels that acted as land mines. One misstep and the brain would herniate, making the whole surgery go down the drain. Which was why they worked together—Less time to make a mistake, less room for the tumor to swell. 

The tumor was smart. They were smarter.

 

After scrubbing Semi walked into the operating room, and was immediately surrounded by a cloud of nurses, draping him in the light blue surgical gown, squeezing his hands into the skin-tight surgical gloves. Semi could hear the hiss of the ventilator, the steady beat of the heart monitor, and the clinking of surgical instruments at the table, where Oikawa stood fiddling with them. The way he always did.

Next to Oikawa stood Yahaba, his face blank. On the other side of the brain was an empty spot, for the second lead neurosurgeon—that was him. Semi walked up to the table, his hands hovering in front of him. 

The moment he stood at the head of the operating table, Semi knew his patient would see her daughter grow up.

And the moment Dr. Shirabu Kenjiro joined him at his side, looking up at him with big brown eyes; Semi knew he would keep the promise he made earlier that day.

 

“Alright,” Oikawa said, glancing at the clock, the gallery, Semi, and finally refocusing his gaze at the patient. “Who’s ready to save a life?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re enjoying the fic please let me know in the comments, I’d really love to know.   
> If you happen to be an artist, and you’d like to make some hospital!au SemiShira art, I would love to see it.   
> Contact me on tumblr: swimminginnoodles


	10. Toxic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite knowing the consequences, Semi finally takes the leap with his feelings for Shirabu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! It’s me again.   
> Finally the chapter I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for is here!   
> Thanks for sticking with with my fic for so long, I hope you’re all enjoying it. 
> 
> Leave a Kudos if you like the fic, and let me know what you think in the comments!

The worst part of brain surgery, is the waiting. Even if the patient comes out of the operating room with a beating heart and breathing lungs, the real test comes in the next twenty-four hours. The most important hours to any surgeon, especially neurosurgeons.

 

Semi stood outside the patient room, where his astrocytoma patient lay unconscious in the bed. She looked like any other post-op brain surgery patient—still intubated, head shaved and dressed in bandages, and a loved one by her side. Mrs. Saito’s surgery had been a success; they’d managed to remove the entire tumor, with minimal complications, but the real test was post-op. She could wake up perfectly fine, with great deficits, or maybe she won’t wake up at all. 

The waiting was always the worst part.

 

Mrs. Saito’s words swam through Semi’s head. He couldn’t stop thinking about the promise he made—the promise he wanted to keep. He needed her to wake up. Her husband and daughter needed her to wake up. 

 

Semi anxiously clicked his pen, clutching his clipboard to his chest. Oikawa came up beside him. 

 

“Now the waiting begins,” Oikawa sighed, focusing his gaze towards their patient. He turned towards Semi, raising an eyebrow, “you look like you haven’t slept in days, I’ll stay tonight and monitor her. Tell Dr. Shirabu he can go home tonight too.” 

Semi nodded. 

They’d give her twenty-four hours to wake up, before they’d be forced to discuss brain-death options with the family. 

 

“Thanks.”

 

Semi took a step back and started down the ICU hallway, his mind still swirling with thoughts and memories. When he finally made it into the elevator, Semi instantly leaned back onto the wall. It felt like he could finally let go of his breath after nine hours of holding it in. The hospital felt dark, even though the ceiling lights shone in every hallway and room. It felt quieter. Less nurses in the hallways, running around working their magic, checking IVs, changing sheets and dressings, monitoring patients—nurses really didn’t get the respect they deserved. The patient doors were closed, the rooms dark. Most surgeons were either in the operating room or sleeping in the on-call rooms. 

 

Semi finally came across the residents lounge. It was fairly empty, and only half of the lights were on. He found Shirabu sitting on the bench across from his locker, running his thin fingers through his hair as he looked through his phone. Semi stood in the doorway, leaning his hand against the frame. 

 

He opened his mouth to speak; there were too many words that he wanted to say. The syllables scrambled on his tongue, clogging his brain and making him unable to form a single sentence. His memory flooded out of his mind, the voice of his patient asking him to make a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. Shirabu still hadn’t realized Semi was standing there, when he finally sorted out something to say, at least.

 

“Shirabu,” Semi cleated his throat. “Um, Dr. Shirabu.”

 

Shirabu turned around, startled. His hair was messy from his scrub-cap, thin strands of gold falling out of place and sticking out. His eyes were tired; the weak lighting reflected off of dark brown irises like the setting sun on a clear lake. Shirabu looked at Semi with heavy eyelids, he yawned as he pulled himself to his feet.

 

“Yeah?” Shirabu responded, blinking heavily. 

 

Again, Semi thought back to his promise. Poetic words about a train coming from a kindergarten teacher. Semi felt like he was the one who needed brain surgery. His head was pounding as if it was going to burst. Or maybe his mouth would burst, and he’d say every little thing in his dumb, bisexual mind. And then he’d be screwed because even though he knew he wanted it, a relationship between a resident and an attending was a horrible idea. 

 

So instead he stood there, dumbfounded. Staring at Shirabu and his perfect, messy hair, his tiny waist, and his big eyes. He thought about Shirabu’s stupid laugh, snarky retorts, and his brilliant ideas in the OR. Semi couldn’t think of anything else. He couldn’t pull his mind off of this resident, and everything about him. Shirabu stood there, obviously too tired to be bothered by the awkward silence. 

 

Semi took a deep breath. 

 

“You-uh, you can head home. Dr. Oikawa and Dr. Yahaba are monitoring the patient post-op tonight. They’ll page us if there are any complications,” Semi said, “and, um, good work today.”

 

Shirabu nodded, reaching down and picking up his bag. He looked relieved, but Semi couldn’t help but notice the gleam of disappointment in his eyes.

 

“Thanks,” Shirabu said. He walked towards the door, meeting Semi at the lounge entrance. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes, barely looking up at him enough for Semi to see the corner of Shirabu’s soft mouth twitch into a smirk. “And uh, Dr. Semi?” 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You’re pretty incredible, you know that?” Shirabu said softly, his warm voice breathy with fatigue and giddiness from their surgical victory. 

 

“Thanks,” Semi mumbled, his mouth still slightly agape.

 

Then Shirabu ducked out of the room and left Semi standing there, stupidly. 

 

 

_Oh, and I think I’m in love with you... by the way._

 

 

Semi yanked the door of his car shut and then slammed his forehead into the steering wheel. 

 

“Dammit!” Semi yelled. 

Why is this so hard all of the sudden? Why did he feel like he was a stupid high-schooler again, getting thrown into closets and shoved into lockers by other, low-functioning teenagers. He felt more stupid than he did when he let himself believe that other kids wouldn’t care about his sexuality, that his dad wouldn’t care. Shirabu made him stupid, and he hated it. Semi was so frustrated.

 

He saved Kana Saito’s life, and in return she got Semi thinking he could waltz up to Shirabu and tell him everything. Then he saw Shirabu’s face and he  _really_ thought he could. But the pale blue scrubs meant for interns and residents were a big sign that shouted STUPID right into Semi’s face. They got him thinking about what the chief of surgery would say if he found out, what his peers would say, and they were probably right. Nothing ever went Semi’s way unless he was standing in an operating room with a scalpel between his fingers. So Semi drove out of the hospital parking lot. 

 

 

Semi barely made it to his apartment door before his mind wandered back to the words of Mrs. Saito. He dragged himself up the stairs and down the hall, quietly fumbling for his keys before shoving them into the lock. He was pissed at himself. For promising to do something he knew he couldn’t. He shouldn’t have promised anything. 

 

The key didn’t even turn all the way, the click in the door didn’t sound before Semi turned away. He paused, unsure of himself—except that he wasn’t unsure, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. Semi yanked the keys out of the lock and ran back down the hallway. 

 

What the hell.

What the absolute hell is he doing?

He drove way faster than he should have; but, it’s ten at night, how many people are actually on the road anyways? Semi’s memory traced the roads out of the city, down roads lined with big trees, and grass lawns littered with acorns and leaves. He drove by old houses with dark windows and shut fences—closed off, like the brilliant smart-ass resident Semi couldn’t stop thinking about. The resident whose door Semi had just ran up to, standing breathlessly in front of the old house. 

Semi had no idea what the hell he was thinking. His brain shut off the moment he spun away from his apartment door and got into his car, driving all the way out here to stand in front of Shirabu Kenjiro’s house. 

What the absolute hell is he doing?

 

Semi thought about all of the worst possible outcomes as he banged his fist against the door. His heart raced, beating like it was trying to break out of his chest. He could feel his lungs about to burst, he hadn’t even run more than thirty feet but he felt like he’d just finished a marathon. The door felt like concrete against his cold, numb hand. Semi took a step away from the door, heaving. The silence dragging at him as moments passed by, pushing his pulse way beyond its limits. The cold night air bit at Semi’s skin, sending goosebumps up his spine and neck. 

 

Finally the door opened. Shirabu stood there, his fingers resting on the doorknob, his eyes widened as he stared at Semi, bewilderment painted all over his face. Semi stood on the porch, awkwardly standing in the button down and slacks he threw on this morning. 

 

“What are-“ Shirabu stuttered.  God,  he looked so adorable with that stupid, confused look on his face. “What are you do-“

 

“Shut up,” Semi said, his voice sounding a lot more confident than he felt.

 

“What?”

 

“Just,” Semi breathed, “let me talk.”

 

Shirabu took a step away from the door, and Semi followed. 

 

“I am a neurosurgical attending. I graduated from one of the best medical schools in the country. I am smart.” Semi breathed. “But for some reason I look at your face and I can’t even think! And then I kiss you in radiology and I drive you home drunk and now I can’t even do my freaking job without you coming into my mind like some sort of virus! I am sick and tired of chasing you around so now I’m here. And I know that anything between usis a really bad idea, because we work together and I’m your boss  and your teacher but I’m telling you, there’s a train and I’m not going to ignore it. I’m telling you, Shirabu, it would be a lot easier for me to explain to the chief why I’m in love with one of his residents, than it would be to get you off of my mind. So yeah, Shirabu Kenjiro I think I’m falling in lo-“

 

Shirabu barely hesitated. He stood there dumbfounded as Semi ranted, but quickly cut him off by grabbing his shirt collar, yanking him down and kissing him right on the mouth. 

Semi instantly lost his breath—all of it. The heat that spread from Shirabu’s lips onto his was like fire, and the kiss was unlike every other kiss they’d had. Before, the kisses had been quick and soft; this one was thick and desperate. Shirabu clutched Semi’s shirt, pulling him deeper into the kiss. 

They finally broke apart, both of them breathless, Semi pressed his forehead against Shirabu’s, barely able to keep his eyes open. He slid his hands up to Shirabu’s cheeks, holding his face close to his. Both of them stood there, taking in the moment to make the kiss linger. 

 

“You, uh,” Semi mumbled directly to Shirabu’s mouth. He didn’t even finish the sentence, his voice hoarse from the kiss. Shirabu answered anyways.

 

“Yeah,” Shirabu whispered. He quickly let go of Semi’s shirt and wrapped his arms around Semi’s neck, keeping his forehead pressed against the other’s. Then he kissed him again, this time harder. Semi felt Shirabu’s mouth press deeply into his. He felt Shirabu’s warm cheeks against his palm as the resident’s tongue pressed in between his lips. Shirabu breathed in deeply through his nose as he dragged his hands up into Semi’s hair, shrugging his shoulders as he desperately sought to hold more of Semi. 

This time they didn’t part. The two surgeons just kissed until they were dizzy, pulling at hair and pressing tongues sloppily between lips. Shirabu reached behind Semi, his fingers barely brushing the door enough to close it. Semi’s head was fuzzing up, any common sense he had was gone, alone with all of the oxygen Shirabu had kissed out of his lungs. It was toxic—like a drug, he’d gotten a taste a few months ago, and chasing Shirabu around had driven Semi to near insanity. But now he was here, Shirabu’s tongue halfway down his throat and his fingers tangled in his thick hair; and, he never wanted to leave. Semi’s hands wandered down from Shirabu’s face to his waste, fingers barely brushing the skin between Shirabu’s t-shirt and sweatpants. The resident’s breath hitched to the touch

 

Semi laughed into the kiss, “what? Are you ticklish?”

 

“So what if I am?” Shirabu snickered. 

 

Shirabu only giggled more as Semi’s fingers drifted further up his shirt towards his rib cage. Shirabu grabbed at the back of Semi’s shirt as Semi kissed him down the neck, trailing his lips down to his clavicle, making Shirabu gasp when Semi caught his soft skin between his teeth. 

Shirabu pulled at Semi’s shirt, stumbling backwards towards the stairs, guiding their lips back together. 

They shambled up the staircase, laughing in between kisses, Shirabu’s arms still draped around Semi’s shoulders. Their laughter filled the otherwise empty house as the two of them finally made it up the stairs. Semi pushed Shirabu against the second-floor wall, returning to kissing him as much as he can. 

With his back to the wall, Shirabu ran his hand on the back of Semi’s neck, his fingers digging into that thick ash-blonde hair of his. 

 

“Are all neurosurgeons this hot?” Shirabu teased, feeling the press of Semi’s palm on his chest and the wall right against his back. 

 

“Maybe.” Semi laughed.

 

Shirabu’s other hand wandered to the buttons of Semi’s shirt, fumbling with them one by one until the dark fabric fell away and crumpled onto the floor. Eventually Shirabu pushed Semi across the hall, fumbling with the doorknob to his bedroom. Lips practically glued together, Semi tugged at Shirabu’s t-shirt all the way until the thin resident was kneeling over him on his bed, sitting on Semi’s stomach, bent over so that his face was inches away from Semi’s.

 

The fatigue in Shirabu’s eyes had faded; now his facial features were all laugher and glee. Semi smiled—this was definitely a side of the snarky resident he liked a lot. Not to mention Semi defiantly enjoyed the feeling of Shirabu’s snarky tongue pressed between his lips. 

 

“We are going to get into so much trouble for this,” Shirabu laughed, pulling away from the kissing as he raised his arms for Semi to pull his t-shirt over his head. Shirabu really did have a tiny frame—his shoulders were thin, gently sloping away from defined collarbones, and his tiny waist fit warmly in Semi’s arms. 

 

Semi rolled over, pushing Shirabu down onto the mattress. He kissed his way down Shirabu’s face and buried his face in the smooth dip between neck and shoulder, high on the smell of Shirabu’s skin and hair, and the electricity of his touch on Semi’s skin. 

 

Semi laughed, his head dizzy, “yeah, but this is worth an awkward conversation with Dr. Tendou and Chief Daichi.”

 

It didn’t just feel good, being with Shirabu; it felt right. It felt like Semi had just jumpedonto a train; and, he didn’t know exactly where it was headed but he knew he’d love it. This is what he needed. This is what was right. 

 

** *


	11. Falling Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah.” Shirabu was blunt. It’s not like he was going to downsize it, it’s true the chief would not be happy with it. But hey, that’s not going to change anything. The feelings of security and trust Shirabu got from being with Semi weren’t just going to magically disappear. So yeah, he slept with Semi Eita. He had feelings for Semi Eita.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you’re having a lovely day because you’re all lovely people. :)  
> Welcome back to my fic, I really hope you all are enjoying it, I’m having lots of fun writing it. So sorry I’ve been absent this past week I’ve been really busy with volleyball camps and tryouts. School starts soon but I’m hoping that I’ll be able to finish the fic before then.  
> Prepare yourselves for some angst in the next couple chapters, it’s gonna happen. 
> 
> Please leave a kudos if you’re enjoying the fic it would mean a lot to me! I also love hearing what you guys think in the comments, it always makes my day. Thank you again for reading, I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Once again, I don’t have any medical experience, but I try my best. Sorry if anything is off, just roll with it lol. :)

Shirabu woke up in possibly the best way to wake up: wearing nothing but his boxers, and with an incredibly hot guy, wearing no more than he was, in his bed. Shirabu wasn’t even bothered by the blaring alarm clock by his side. He slammed his hand repeatedly on the bedside table until finally he was able to turn it off. Shirabu rolled over, finding himself face-to-face with a sleeping neurosurgeon. 

 

Semi looked much more peaceful than he did at the hospital. The focused surgeon look, with the sharp eyes and furrowed brows, had been replaced by something a lot more tranquil. His breathing was slower and deeper, his mouth open slightly. Semi’s singed silvery-blonde hair was messy, thick locks falling over his face. Shirabu reached over and gently brushed a piece of hair away from his face—his hair was really soft. 

 

Shirabu jolted when his alarm went off a second time. He groaned, pushing away the sheets and exposing himself to the cold morning air as he slammed his hand over the alarm again. Semi mumbled incoherently, obviously beginning to wake up. Despite wanting to stay in bed with Semi all day, both of them had to be at thehospital in an hour.

 

He leaned over and gently kissed Semi, who was barely awake, on the forehead before scooting out of the bed. By the time Shirabu came out of the bathroom, Semi was awake and sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes and threading his fingers through his hair. When he noticed Shirabu enter the room, Semi gave him a drowsy smile.

 

“You look like you slept well,” Shirabu said, walking over to the sleepy surgeon sitting at the edge of his bed. It was a new feeling for him—waking up next to someone half naked, and not regretting the previous night with all of his soul. He actually liked having Semi there; and not just because he was so incredibly attractive. Shirabu was glad he hadn’t woken up hungover. Not that he was some sort of whore, but his alcohol tolerance was low and he tended to end up in situations he didn’t know how to get out of—ones that usually resulted in him waking up with a killer headache and a stranger in his bed. It rarely happened, but when it did Yahaba was always on his case.

 

“I guess I did,” Semi smirked, reaching up and stretching. He yawned, standing up and taking a step closer to Shirabu, wrapping his arms around the resident’s tiny waist. He bent down, narrowing their height difference so that he could gently press his lips against the others. Shirabu laughed breathily, his palms resting on Semi’s chest. 

 

“Just put some clothes on,” he smirked. “My roommates make coffee, at least.”

They had work in an hour, but Shirabu wouldn’t mind staying like this for a little while longer. Shirabu pulled himself away from the other, slipping away from Semi and sliding behind the door. The light-hearted smirk glued to his face as he left Semi alone in the bedroom. 

 

 

He found himself at the kitchen door only moments later. Judging by the hushed conversation inside Shirabu could tell that both of his roommates must have come home last night, and both were awake now. Shirabu felt his face heat up, as he thought about the awkward conversation he was probably about to have. He pushed a deep breath out of his lungs and ducked into the kitchen.

Yahaba and Nishinoya’s gazes instantly fixed onto Shirabu. Expectation was smeared over Yahaba’s face, as he silently judged Shirabu from next to the sink. Yahaba leaned against the counter and crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

 

“Didn’t know you were expecting company last night,” Yahaba said blankly, slightly tipping his coffee mug back. “Let me guess, you kicked the guy out earlier this morning. God forgive they mistake you for someone who has real feelings.”

 

Someone was in a horrible mood this morning.

 

Shirabu didn’t answer. He went about his normal routine, trying to ignore Yahaba’s stare, one eyebrow raised with his mouth twisted as he probably internally criticized Shirabu’s every move. Nishinoya, on the other hand, looked smug as hell. Shirabu didn’t care. He could easily compete with Yahaba’s pissy moods, not that he wanted to. Shirabu was actually in a good mood not—he wasn’t going to let his obsessive roommates screw up his mood. 

In fact, he might as well own it. 

Semi awkwardly peered into the kitchen at the perfect moment. Shirabu smirked, grabbing an extra coffee mug and motioning the tall attending over. 

 

“Yeah,” Shirabu sighed his tone laced with amusement, “we were out of booze last night, so I must have forgotten to kick this one out.”

 

He took a few steps towards Semi and pressed a coffee mug into his hands. Semi looked uncomfortable, but Shirabu enjoyed screwing around with his roommates from time to time. The look on Yahaba’s face when Semi entered the room was more than enough to fuel Shirabu’s good mood. 

When Shirabu leaned forwards onto his toes and gently kissed the dumbfounded neurosurgeon on the lips, Yahaba almost choked on his coffee. Nishinoya made a sound of shock that was somewhere between a squawk and a gasp.

 

Whatever. They could judge all they wanted, Shirabu was in a good mood for once; he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin it for the time being. 

 

“Thanks for the coffee,” Semi said, mostly to Shirabu, “I gotta run.” He kissed Shirabu one more time, before turning out of the kitchen and walking out the door. 

 

 

 

“You  _slept_ ,” Yahaba was baffled, occasionally glancing away from the road at Shirabu in the passenger seat, “with an  _attending_ ?”

 

“Yeah.” Shirabu was blunt. It’s not like he was going to downsize it, it’s true the chief would not be happy with it. But hey, that’s not going to change anything. The feelings of security and trust Shirabu got from being with Semi weren’t just going to magically disappear. So yeah, he slept with Semi Eita. He had feelings for Semi Eita. 

 

“And it wasn’t just some drunken one night stand?” Yahaba continued. 

 

“Nope,” Shirabu slumped in the seat. “There’s, uh, feelings. I guess.”

 

“Okay.” Yahaba said, nodding slowly.

 

“Okay?” Shirabu echoed, “you’re not going to lecture me?” 

 

“I mean, I was shocked,” Yahaba almost laughed. “But no, I’m not. There’s obviously something between the two of you, so I’m not going to yell or lecture or whatever.” 

 

“Oh,” Shirabu said, “thanks.”

 

There was only a small pause before Nishinoya jumped into the conversation. “So what, you’re not going to give us the juicy details?” He teased. 

 

“Not a chance.”

 

Suddenly his car was filled with laughter, as Shirabu leaned over the seat and punched Noya on the shoulder. Shirabu had always been afraid of relationships partly because of the people around him. He was so accustomed to being scrutinized by his mother that he didn’t know what it was like to have people support him in a relationship. It was nice; he finally felt as if part of the world, even just a small part, was in his corner. 

 

 

They got to the hospital, and were paged to the ER almost immediately after changing into scrubs. Shirabu didn’t see Semi after arriving at the hospital—the neurosurgeon had quite a few post-op patients he needed to check on. 

 

Yahaba and Shirabu pushed through the Emergancy Room doors, revealing a whole new world on the other side. Chaos, was basically the only word Shirabu could think of, looking in on the area. Lots of blood, broken bones, screaming and pain. Nurses rushed from one corner to the next, transporting patients, assisting doctors, and taking notes in fresh patient charts. The surgeons were no different—interns scrambled to keep up with their attendings and residents, stitching and charting and taking vitals. Over all the commotion, Dr. Iwaizumi’s voice was strong and clear. He gave orders and directed the traffic, ordering critical patients into trauma rooms and assigning doctors to each person in need of one.

 

“What happened?” Yahaba asked, joining the crowd of surgeons at the door, as they each picked off patients from the stream of victims.

 

“Sounds like a huge truck crashed, causing several vehicles to collide, lots of surgical victims,” a nurse said, meeting a gurney as it rolled in through the door, carrying a middle-aged man groaning in pain. 

 

“Shirabu!” Iwaizumi called from the other side of the room. “I need you in trauma room three.”

 

“Yes sir.” Shirabu snapped on the surgical gloves and let Yahaba finish tying his surgical gown before he hurried down the hall into the trauma room, skipping at the chance to take point on his own trauma case.

 

His patient was a forty-four year old male, who had been in his car when the truck crashed. He seemed relatively undamaged, except for a head laceration, but the chance of other injuries was likely. He was showing clear signs of brain trauma; but, Shirabu would do the full workup anyways. He met his assigned intern in the trauma room, along with a nurse who was hooking up the patient to monitors and an IV. 

 

“Good morning Dr. Shirabu,” Goshiki chimed, grabbing a patient chart and scribbling in it. Shirabu didn’t hate him, he was a talented surgeon, for an intern—quick with his facts and precise when he did procedures on his own. The only thing about Dr. Goshiki was that he was one hell of a kiss-ass. But whatever, it meant more coffee for Shirabu. 

 

“Good morning, Dr. Goshiki,” Shirabu said, taking his stethoscope from his pocket and held it to his patients chest. “What do we got?”

 

“Benjiro Kazu, forty-four year old male with a head lac, positive loss of consciousness on the scene, according to the paramedics. Also I believe there is an abdominal contusion.” Goshiki said as the nurse cut away their patient’s shirt to reveal more injuries. Shirabu’s intern was right, there was an abdominal contusion—it was likely he would need surgery. 

 

Shirabu was concerned with the head laceration and the loss of consciousness.

“Order an ultrasound, and check out what’s going on in the abdomen. We need to clear him of any neurological injuries too.” 

He made his way to the head of the trauma table, gently feeling around the patient’s skull, looking for any signs of head trauma or subdural bleeding. Eventually he felt around the laceration and noticed the problem.

 

“Bony deformity in the temporal region,” Shirabu mumbled mostly to himself as Goshiki used the ultrasound wand to check for abdominal bleeding. He may specialize in cardio, but Shirabu was still a resident, so his knowledge in other specialties was anything but lacking. And with a multi-car pileup, it was all hands on deck.

 

“Abdomen is clear,” Goshiki said, pushing away the ultrasound device and scribbling more in the patient’s chart. “I also have clear, palpable pulses in all four extremities.”

 

“Good,” Shirabu murmured, pulling his light pen from the surgical tray and checking the patient’s pupils for signs for hemorrhaging. “He’s got a five centimeters head lac, and mild pupillary asymmetry. Let’s order a head C.T. and page neuro.”

 

“Yes doctor,” the nurse said as she left the room to go call in for a C.T. And hopefully to page a neurosurgeon. 

 

As if on cue, their patient’s eyes fluttered open. He groaned, just as Goshiki pushed the pain meds. On further inspection, Shirabu and Goshiki’s patient was a big guy, in general. Somewhere around 6’4” and 200 pounds. Basically he was like three times the size of Shirabu—didn’t make him any less qualified to treat his patient.

 

“This is the first time I’m not regretting my decision to buy a family SUV instead of a tiny sports car,” Benjiro chuckled as he weakly smiled at Shirabu. 

 

“Is that so?” Shirabu said warmly. 

 

“I wanted the shiny red convertible,” he said, “but my wife insisted on buying the SUV, said it would be safer for the kids. And here I am driving home from school drop off, and ending up in a big pile-up.”

 

“Well, Benjiro, the fact that you’re awake and talking to us is a good sign.” Goshiki said. “How many kids do you have?”

 

“Two girls. They are the light in my life, so smart and beautiful. They’re the best students in their classes-“

 

Shirabu was barely able to react when Benjiro’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he started violently shaking. He and Goshiki acted quickly, rolling him into his side and holding him still as best as they could. 

 

“Alright Goshiki, tell me what’s going on.” Shirabu instructed, using the moment to test Goshiki’s thinking under pressure. 

 

“Uh, a Tonic Clonic Seizure,” he stuttered, helping Shirabu hold the seizing patient steady. “We wait for it to pass.”

 

“Alright go get it, it’s locked in the pharma.” 

 

“Yes sir.” Goshiki quickly hurried out of the trauma room, leaving Shirabu alone with his patient. Soon after the door shut behind Goshiki, Benjiro’s seizure subsided and Shirabu was able to lay him on his back again. Shirabu let his breath out as if he’d been holding it the whole time his patient was seizing. The room went quiet—with the blinds to the trauma room closed, Shirabu couldn’t see nor hear the ER outside. Nobody could see in and they couldn’t see out; it was as if they were in their own private world. 

 

“Neuro should be here by now,” Shirabu mumbled to himself, mostly, as he turned away from his now unconscious patient and grabbed the chart. It wasn’t necessarily a critical neural case, but with the bony deformity paired with seizures and pupil asymmetry, Shirabu would go ahead and call it urgent. 

Also, where was Goshiki? 

 

There was a murmur behind Shirabu, which came from his patient as he subconsciously sat up on the trauma table. His eyes were glazed over, unable to focus on anything around him. He looked around, confused. 

 

“Mr. Benjiro you need to lie back down,” Shirabu said, as he noticed his patient get up and stand to his full six feet and four inches. It was clear that he was not aware of his surroundings, as if his body was awake but his mind was not. He grumbled, trying to push past Shirabu. 

“Benjiro, you’re injured, you need to lie down.”

He spoke as calmly as he could, but Shirabu was definitely nervous. His patient was unresponsive, attempting to push past Shirabu and head for the door. He really needed to get back onto the trauma table before he collapsed and seized again. Shirabu tried to gently guide him back to the gurney, but his hands were slapped away. He was obviously the wrong size to be pushing people like Benjiro back onto a gurney. 

 

But his patient’s unawareness only got worse. The post-ictyl state he was in was showing to be a serious problem.

 

 

Shirabu had only been shoved like that a few times in his entire life. Bullies at school pushed him around from time to time, but he minded his own business—and that was that. 

Now, the resident was caught completely off-guard when his own patient aggressively shoved him against the wall. All of the air was forced out of Shirabu’s lungs the moment he hit the wall, knocking over a tray-table on his way. Benjiro held him against the wall and shoved him again. This time, Shirabu’s head was slammed into the covered window. Fiery pain seared through his skull and down his neck, blurring his vision and sending a sharp ringing through his ears.

He barely had time to react before the front of his scrubs were grabbed again, and Shirabu was thrown easily over the trauma gurney. Raising his arms and futility attempting to push his patient off of him, Shirabu was struck across the temple. 

The world around him seemed to slow to a pace like flowing caramel. His vision faded in and out as Shirabu was tossed and struck like a helpless doll. Every bone and muscle in his body screamed in burning pain, but he couldn’t move; he couldn’t push back. The patient leaned over and pressed a forearm against Shirabu’s throat, pushing his weight hard onto his trachea—the air in his lungs was bottled up. 

 

_The ER is too busy, nobody can hear this._

 

Shirabu gasped for air as his patient’s grasp released from his throat and moved down to his wrist. Attempting to roll away, the large, meaty hands wrapped around Shirabu’s thin forearms. 

A deafening  pop  sounded from Shirabu’s right shoulder and he was hurled across the trauma room. Gasping in pain, he collided with something hard, his side throbbing in brutal pain at the impact, and his head once again smashing into the floor. Slamming into the floor, Shirabu’s entire body was inflamed. He was lying there, alone with an aggressive unaware, patient who was three times his size. His head was pounding, all sounds were downed out by a tumultuous ringings in his eardrums. In and out, Shriabu’s vision came as fast as it went. He was able to catch a glimpse of his patient collapsing onto the ground and beginning to seize. 

 

The pain in his shoulder throbbed against his skin, as if his bone was threatening to jump out of his body. It felt as if someone had ripped Shirabu apart limb by limp. His throat and stomach throbbed, and every muscle, bone, and nerve, felt like it had been crushed to pieces. 

He couldn’t move. His thin hair fell over his face as Shirabu lay on the cold, hard ground, alone in the trauma room. He couldn’t see anything but the tiles on the floor, his eyesight blurred like traffic on a raining night. He struggled to stay conscious—darkness edged his vision and threatened to take the entire thing. His head seared, and his abdomen felt like it had been skewered. But Shirabu couldn’t move; so, he lay there, blood dripping from somewhere, every part of him in pain.

 

The buzzing in his head was the only thing Shirabu could hear. Even when he noticed the trauma room door open, he still couldn’t hear the shouts as other doctors noticed what had happened. Goshiki, kneeling down and shouting as he checked Shirabu’s pulse with shaky fingers, Iwaizumi rushing over from across the ER, and three trauma nurses following him over was all a silent motion picture. They rolled him into a board, every part of him screaming in protest every moment of the process. His shoulder twinged in pain as they transferred him onto the trauma table. When his back hit the table he felt like his entire chest was collapsing inwards, and he struggled to take in every breath. 

 

—————————-

 

People were everywhere. Faces of all sorts of doctors and nurses swarming around him, talking to each other with panicked expressions glued to their features. Iwaizumi and Yaku were already there, both of them looked grim. Goshiki had the most panicked look on his face. His dark eyes were huge and his hands were practically shaking as he helped the attendings hook Shirabu up to monitors and insert an IV. By the time Dr. Tendou came running in, they had already cut through Shirabu’s scrub top.

 

“What the hell happened?” Tendou gaped, rushing over to the side of the table and yanking his stethoscope from his pocket. Yaku was checking the bruises that stained Shirabu’s sides, muttering to himself the same way he did when he was stressed.

 

“Th-the patient, he was stable, non-aggressive. I left for ten minutes and this happened,” Goshiki stuttered, hands trembling as he checked the monitor. “Pulse-ox is down to 88.” 

 

“A patient was postictal. Hyper-aggression can occur after a seizure. Chances are he’ll wake up and have no idea what happened,” Iwaizumi mumbled, moving around to check the swelling around Shirabu’s eyes, moving his finger in front of his face. “He’s being treated just next door.” Iwaizumi paused, “okay, uh, obvious dislocation of the left shoulder, someone page ortho.”

 

“Goshiki, start a central line,” Tendou said, moving the head of his stethoscope around Shirabu’s chest. “Alright I have decreased breath sounds from the left side, it looks like a pneumothorax. I need a scalpel and a chest tube please.”

 

Tendou held out his hand for the nurse to hand him the supplies he needed to perform the thoracotomy. He hesitated, even his incredibly experienced hands were trembling a slightly. He had to cut into his own student to help him breathe. 

 

“I’m sorry Kenjiro, hang in there this will help,” Tendou muttered, injecting the lidocaine and placing the scalpel at his ribs. Wincing slightly, Tendou pressed the blade into Shirabu’s side and made the incision. Blood pooled at the cut as Tendou inserted the chest tube; instantly Shirabu gasped, coughing violently as the blood was drained from his lung cavity. 

 

“Pulse-ox is rising.”

 

“Breath Kenjiro,” Iwaizumi said as Tendou taped and sewed the chest tube in place. Soon the doors swung open once again and more doctors were added to the chaos—one was Bokuto, head of orthopedic surgery, the others were two neurosurgeons, who both stopped dead in his tracks when they noticed the patient in front of them. 

 

——————————

Semi’s feet froze in place. He walked in on one of the scariest days of his like the moment he entered the trauma room and found Shirabu lying on the table. Yahaba stumbled ahead, moving to Shirabu’s head and giving him the neuro rundown, his eyes red and watery.

 

“No evidence of traumatic brain injury, or neurological deficits, uh, except—“

 

It was blurry. Like Semi had been hit really hard over the head, and the panicked voices were fading out. They might even have need calling Semi’s name, but he couldn’t hear it. His legs wouldn’t move, he felt like his stomach was caving in on itself. He wanted to rewind everything—to go back to when he was comfortably lying in Shirabu’s bed with him—to when Shirabu was safe.

It might of been Dr. Iwaizumi’s voice that snapped him back into the present. Semi then realized the wetness on his cheeks, his hands shaking as he stood over Shirabu, in his line of vision. Gently holding the sides of Shirabu’s head.

 

“Semi, pull yourself together,” Iwaizumi said, but Yahaba stopped him with a comment. “Oh.” 

 

“Kenjiro it’s okay, you’re okay.” Semi couldn’t stop his hands from trembling and his eyes from tearing. He reached out for Shirabu’s hand, lying limply at his side. 

 

Shirabu’s shoulder was extremely swollen—obviously dislocated. Bokuto felt for a pulse in his arm. “Okay I need to reset his shoulder,” Bokuto said, moving his hands across Shirabu’s shoulder and holding it. “Okay I’m really sorry Shirabu but this is going to hurt a lot. On three.”

Semi held Shirabu’s hand tighter. 

“One. Two. Three!”

A loud crack, and Shirabu screamed in pain. He was left gasping, and every doctor in the room was barely hanging on. Seeing one of their people bruised and bleeding on the trauma table was extremely hard. Yahaba was crying, Goshiki was barely able to assist the attendings with his shaky hands, Tendou’s face was stressed in a horribly grim way, and Semi was an absolute mess. His heart was pounding. 

 

“Guys,” Yahaba said, “I don’t think he can hear us.”

 

The entire room seemed to freeze. 

 

“What?”

 

“He’s responding to the pain but,” Yahaba leaned over Shirabu, “Kenjiro, I need you to move your fingers, toes, anything.” 

 

Nothing. 

 

“I don’t think he can hear anything.” 

 

Iwaizumi cursed under his breath, but Yaku made things worse as his intern returned with scans. He took the dark transparent scans and held them up to the light. Now it was Yaku’s turn to curse. 

 

“Okay. We need to book an OR right now, I have evidence of internal bleeding. Hang some O-neg, and get him to surgery. Page the chief too, he needs to know.” Yaku barked the orders and immediately the surgeons around him started moving. A gurney was brought in and they moved Shirabu and pushed him out of the room. 

 

Semi clutched Shirabu’s hand the whole time. Emergency surgery? Semi couldn’t keep his hands from shaking. Looking at Shirabu, grimacing in pain; his face was red and swollen, bloodshot eyes, and bruised everywhere else. They reached the OR, and Semi was stopped by Iwaizumi, scrubbed and ready to operate. 

 

“You need to wait outside,” Iwaizumi said sternly. 

 

“I can’t— I have to be there—“

 

“No.” Iwaizumi firmly put his hand on Semi’s shoulder. “Yaku and I are going to do everything in our power to make sure he’s okay, but you can’t be in there.” 

 

Semi nodded, he turned to Shirabu and leaned over. He gently kissed Shirabu on the forehead, who squeezed Semi’s hand in return. 

“Don’t die on me okay?” He whispered, his face wet with tears. He knew Shirabu couldn’t hear him but he said it anyway. 

 

After Shirabu disappeared into the OR, Semi leaned back onto the wall and slid down to the floor. He buried his face in his palms. 

 

_Please be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahahahahahahaha I’m so sorry Shirabu. 
> 
> Anyways I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
> Please let me know what’s up in the comments, and leave a kudos if you liked it. I hope you all have a wonderful day. :)


	12. The Wrong Side of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The surgeons at Miyagi Central Hospital all fight to save the life of a fellow doctor. Meanwhile, Semi and Tendou wait anxiously for results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I’m soooooo sorry for being away so long, but I’m back now and I am determined to finish this fic and even continue the AU with different ships and characters. 
> 
> I’ve been away because of some personal things, my head really hasn’t been in a good spot lately and I’ve been having a really hard time. The comments you guys have left on this fic have seriously helped me get through this, and although I’m still working on my mental health the Kudos and comments are so helpful. 
> 
> I really hope you’re enjoying the fic and that all you guys who have read it so far will stick with it.  
> Anyways I’m back now and hopefully you enjoy this chapter, I would love if you lovely people could leave a comment or a kudos and let me know what you think. :)

He stared at the door. 

Semi felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the walls of the hospital were closing in on him, compressing his lungs until all of the air was pushed out and his breath was hitched and ragged. It felt as if the whole world was against him—nobody was on his side. 

Nobody was on his side except for Shirabu; but, the world seemed to be taking that away from him. 

So Semi stared at the door, pulling at his hair and letting the tears roll down his face. 

 

The door didn’t move. He knew what was happening inside; he knew about the amount of blood loss, the complications, everything. He knew that Shirabu might not make it through the surgery. 

The thought felt like a knife in his stomach. 

He couldn’t even look up when a nurse or an intern came out from the OR. He couldn’t bring himself to get a glimpse of Shirabu open on the table. Semi didn’t want to see, because otherwise it would be real—he didn’t want it to be real. So instead Semi stared at the ground, his head between his knees and his fingers strewn in his messy hair. Tears rolled from his cheeks to his chin, then fell to the white-tiled floor. 

 

Semi was still looking at the ground when someone came and sat next to him. Someone tall and lanky slid down the wall and slumped beside him—it was easy to tell who it was.

 

“I-uh, tried to go in and check on him, but I...I got kicked out, so I don’t really know what’s..going, what’s going on,” Tendou said, fidgeting with his fingers, “but uh, I think he’s gonna be okay. Iwaizumi and Yaku are better than anyone else. He’s gonna be alright.” He said it like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. When Semi looked up, he noticed Tendou’s dark eyes were rimmed with red—Shirabu was his prized student after all. 

 

“We don’t know that,” Semi mumbled, his voice shaking, his breath hitching in-between words. “He could die.” 

He barely choked out the last sentence, turning back to the ground as the tears in his eyes welled up again. 

 

Tendou fidgeted some more. As brilliant as he was, the red-headed surgeon wasn’t great at socializing. “Come on,” Tendou breathed, “I’ve spent five years teaching him everything I know, intern to resident, there’s no way all of that talent would go to waste.” Tendou’s voice was a thin cover over his obvious nerves. Semi knew he was just trying to help. 

 

“It’s not fair,” Semi sobbed, “I don’t want to lose him. I want what everyone else has—I want everything else.”

 

“I know,” Tendou sighed. “I know.”

——————

 

 

“Dammit,” Iwaizumi hissed as he glanced up at the monitor. Shirabu’s blood pressure was slowly dropping as he bled out from somewhere in his abdomen. He and Yaku had rushed him into the OR and opened him up with hopes of stopping the bleeding before it became too late. 

 

“Found it!” Yaku gritted through his teeth, “under the celiac artery. Clamp please.” 

 

“How much blood has he lost?” Iwaizumi asked as he assisted Dr. Yaku in repairing the damage to the liver and many of the surrounding vessels. “Cautery.”

 

“Almost two liters,” the anesthesiologist said, glancing at the monitors and turning the knob to the anesthesia just slightly. 

 

“Tw-two liters?” Goshiki hiccuped, his hands gripping the suction tighter. He may be a mess but at least he was good at what he did. Iwaizumi would have preferred an intern who was less emotional like Kageyama or Tsukishima, but neither of them were available for such an emergent surgery, and Goshiki was already there. He might be one of the most talented interns in the program, but Goshiki was short-fused and emotional; not to mention how much he admired Dr Shirabu. Watching him bleed out on an OR table was probably more than difficult for the intern.

 

“Focus on the suction Dr. Goshiki,” Iwaizumi grumbled.

 

“Two liters? But that’s almost half his blood volume and-and he’s small and...and really, really thin—he can’t lose that much blood... he just can’t. Two liters is too much-“

 

“Dr. Goshiki if you don’t shut up you’re going to be kicked out of my OR. We’re putting in blood at the same time as it’s going out. It might not be as  _fast_ but it’s still going in. And he’s  _not_   going to die.” 

 

As if on horrible cue the monitor started blaring.

“Shit,” Yaku cursed.

 

“Pressure’s plummeting. He’s bleeding out!” Iwaizumi hissed, “Goshiki I need more suction I can’t see anything.”

 

More blood. The monitor kept on screaming in the surgeons’ ears, telling them that their patient was slipping out of their hands and through their fingers.

 

Yaku leaned over so that he could see Shirabu’s face, mouth slightly open where the intubation lay in his mouth. He winced slightly, remembering teaching Shirabu as an intern—Iwaizumi was barely there for it but he remembered hearing about the cardio-crazy intern. “Do you hear me Kenjiro? You aren’t allowed to die! You have the whole hospital going crazy because of you, including one of our best neurosurgeons, the chief of cardio, and nearly every damn resident in this building. So you better not die on us!”

 

“He’s in V-fib.” Iwaizumi took his hands out of the surgical field and pulled the drape down from his patient’s chest. He immediately placed his palms above Shirabu’s sternum and started pushing rhythmically as the anesthesiologist changed his ventilation to manual. “Dr. Yaku you need to find that bleed or we’re going to lose him.” 

 

Yaku scrambled, his thin fingers swimming through blood looking for the source. He checked nearly everywhere. Yaku closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he latex out the abdominal anatomy in his mind. Time was running out.

 

“Dr. Yaku?” Goshiki asked.

 

“Shut up.”

 

He found it.

“Right. Okay I got it.” Yaku reaches up just below the left lung and felt around the spleen. Yeah—definitely the culprit. “The spleen’s ruptured. Forceps please.” The scrub nurse placed the surgical tool in Yaku’s palm, but the general surgeon immediately transferred them into his intern’s hand.

“What are you-?”

 

“I can assume you know how to do a splenectomy Dr. Goshiki?”

 

“Uh-yes sir, but... this is Dr. Shirabu on the table I can’t just-“

 

“You can do it.”

 

And so Goshiki nodded, grasping the instrument between his fingers and began the splenectomy. 

Once the spleen was removed, the bleeding slowed and the monitor started to relax. Dr. Goshiki placed it in a basin and resumed the protocol for the procedure. It’s funny—such a fatal injury repaired by a first year intern. 

 

“B.P. is rising.” 

Iwaizumi stopped the chest compressions as their patient’s heart rate normalized.

 

“Good. That’s good. We’ve got him back.” Yaku sighed, checking the rest of the surgical field for any more damage—no residual bleeding. Under his breath he added, “thank you for not dying.”

 

 

“Alright Dr. Goshiki, I need you to go outside and tell Dr. Semi that our patient is going to live,” Iwaizumi said, trying to hide the look of relief on his face behind the surgical mask. “Dr. Yaku and I will close.”

 

“But-but we still don’t know the extent of the damage. He could be deaf, or the fractures and dislocations might not be repairable... he could lose function in his arm and lose the ability to operate...or...Or he could not wake up at all. He lost a lot of blood—he might not wake up.”

 

“The possibility of the patient staying unresponsive post-op is small. We will solve those problems as they arise-“

 

“But- if we missed any neurological defects, the damage could have worsened while we were fixing the bleed or he could have stroked out. I mean, Dr. Yahaba and Semi were a mess what if we missed something and he doesn’t wake u-“

 

“Goshiki!” Yaku practically shouted. “I don’t know what your problem is but you need to calm down. Outside that door there is someone going through hell! Semi needs to know that Shirabu is alive—he’s going crazy out there, so the least we can do is tell him that the person he loves is still breathing! Now go out there and tell him.”

 

“Okay.”

————————————-——

The door opened. Semi’s head snapped up so quickly he felt dizzy, Tendou glanced up from his palms. 

They’d been sitting there for nearly four hours. No news on Shirabu—for all they knew, he could be dead already. When the surgeon doesn’t have time to give updates to the family it means the surgery is messy. Semi didn’t want to think about what could be going on in the OR. He only knew that Iwaizumi and Yaku were the best, and that the only thing he could do was trust them. 

 

When Goshiki came out of that OR, his gown covered in so much blood his pale blue surgical gown was stained a dark red. The door was swinging shut behind him, so Semi couldn’t see beyond the shaking intern. They looked at him expectantly. 

Goshiki opened his mouth, averting his gaze away from Semi’s teary charcoal eyes. No words came out of his mouth. 

 

“I-I’m sorry,” Goshiki began, fidgeting with the scrub cap in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks and splatting onto the floor. 

Semi couldn’t think. There was a buzzing in his head that took over every thought that ran through his mind. The only thing he could see in his head was Shirabu’s smile when he was looking at a heart—brilliant, like he was. He cloud only hear the way Shirabu laughed when Semi pushed him against the wall and kissed him. The only thing he could think was that he was dead. 

 

Semi scrambled to his feet and pushed past Goshiki, bursting through the OR door and standing, breathlessly, inside. 

 

—————————

“What-“ Semi breathed, staring at the OR table. “He’s alive.”

 

“Yeah, uh-he tried to get away from us for a bit, and we aren’t sure if the extent of the damage,” Iwaizumi sighed, drying his hands as he stepped out of the scrub room. “But he’s alive.”

Iwaizumi brushed past a scrub nurse, and whispered discreetly, “uh, page Dr. Oikawa, we need to make sure there aren’t any neurological deficits we missed, and Dr. Bokuto.”

 

Semi pulled a stool up beside Shirabu, who lay on the table, unconscious and intubated. He brushed the messy bangs out of his face, gently brushing his hand along the side of Shirabu’s face.

 

Shirabu was still a mess. His cheekbone was swollen and blood was smeared under his nose. His lip was split wide open and the skin on his neck was stained with deep purple bruises. His shoulder was swollen, and there were more bruises spotting his ribs and abdomen—not to mention the surgical scar that ran up Shirabu’s stomach. And the redness that spread along his chest told Semi that he’d had chest compressions—his heart had stopped.

“Oh god,” Semi whispered as he thought of how close he had been to losing Shirabu. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, sniffling, but behind all his worry and tears he was thanking god that Shirabu wasn’t dead. That he would be able to kiss his soft lips again. He stood up from beside the OR table as a nause game by to take Shirabu to the I.C.U—where they’d keep him until he work up, and they could confirm there would be no post-op complications including any possible neurological deficits. 

It was going to be an incredibly long and difficult recovery. But at least he was alive.

 

Semi watched the nurse push the gurney out of the OR and turn towards the I.C.U. He turned to Iwaizumi, who looked exhausted, “thank you,” Semi said.

 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi was a few steps behind Semi, walking out the door when he added, “you know, they say that dating your co-worker is a bad idea, and maybe it is...but there’s nothing you can do if you find the person you love at work.” He gave a faint hearted laugh, “besides I know what it’s like to be attracted to brilliant.”

 

“Yeah,” Semi almost laughed. “Thanks.”

——————————

“It’s a concussion,” Oikawa murmured, holding Shirabu’s C.T up to the light, “I want to monitor it for the next few days to make sure there’s no bleed. He must have hit his head pretty hard but there’s no hematoma.”

 

“And,” Yahaba added, his voice hushed, “what about his hearing. He couldn’t hear anything in the trauma room—you don’t think that’s permanent, right?”

 

Oikawa sighed, glancing over to where Shirabu lay still unconscious and intubated in the hospital bed. Semi was asleep in a chair next to him, his head resting on the bed beside Shirabu’s arm. 

“We won’t know anything for sure until he wakes up. I don’t think there was any significant damage to the cerebellum that would cause the loss of hearing but there’s no way to tell until he’s conscious again. It might just be impact damage to the eardrums. I would page Dr. Kuroo and see what he thinks.”

 

“No need, I’m already here,” said a tall dark haired surgeon who slid gracefully into the dark room. “I want to take a look and see if there was any damage to the eardrums or even the auditory nerves to see if that’ll explain the hearing loss. I also want to take care of the swelling on the cheekbones and make sure there are no underlying fractures. As for the damage done to his trachea, I’d like to monitor that as well to be sure his airway stays intact; although, he probably won’t be able to speak for a few days. All of this can wait till the morning though, he just had major surgery we should let him rest.”

 

Kuroo peered at the scans, frowning. Whatever was wrong the whole hospital knew he could fix it—he was one of the most prestigious plastic surgeons and ENTs in the country after all. Same with Dr. Oikawa, and finally, Dr. Bokuto. 

 

“The dislocation of his shoulder is what worries me most. I reset it in the trauma room but I may need to go in surgically to completely the fix if the swelling doesn’t go down after a few days. The broken ribs and everything else seem to be in good places to heal naturally.”

 

There was a whole board of scans and x-rays of every part of Shirabu’s body. His head, bones, abdomen—everything. Almost every department head was standing outside his I.C.U room discussing all of the awful injuries the resident had sustained. Damage to his lung, shoulder, head, abdomen, ribs, you name it. The most promising sign of his recovery would be to wake up—which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. 

 

Heartache had spread to every doctor in the hospital along with the news of the accident. Akaashi stood outside the glass walls of the I.C.U room, the buzzing of the white fluorescent ceiling lamps was the only sound that could be heard beside a faint lurker of nurses. It was an unnerving place at night. The light was almost wholly artificial, shining through the ceiling or emitted from the machines. It wasn’t the Pediatrics floor; there were no children laughing. Only families weeping over the loss of their loved ones. The I.C.U wasn’t a happy place. 

 

They would give him a few days. 

He hadn’t had any brain surgery—just a concussion—but he’d lost a lot of blood and could go into organ failure. Akaashi wasn’t a very hopeful person, he’d been let down more times than he could count. Almost everyone else was hopeful he would wake up; but, Akaashi just wasn’t sure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhh I’m so sorry Shirabu.  
> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. 
> 
> Let me know if there are any specific characters you’d like to see as doctors! I have a lot of ideas for the AU (especially Iwaoi because they are my favorite ship in the whole world but their story is so long and intricate that I might not be able to give them their own story but who knows).  
> So I hope you’re enjoying everything so far and that you lovely people will come back for more in the future.


	13. Holding On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semi and Shirabu deal with the hardships of recovery after the attack, along with the possibility of Shirabu’s surgical career going down the drain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, I’ve been super busy. This fic is coming to a close so I truly hope you have all enjoyed it. Thank you all SO much for reading I am so grateful that there are such amazing people like you in the world. 
> 
> Please please please leave a comment and let me know what you think! I LOVE hearing what all of you think about the fic, it really makes my day.

Everything hurt.  _Everything_ .

The first thought that ran through Shirabu’s mind as the fluorescent white lights blinded him, was that he was definitely dead. Except if he was dead it wouldn’t hurt so badly. Right? Shirabu couldn’t move, every limb felt numb with pain and heavy like lead—maybe it was just the drugs, maybe he was paralyzed. He couldn’t speak; he could open his mouth, maybe if he tried hard enough, but his throat was so sore and swollen that it even hurt to breathe.

 

To breathe. 

 

Was he even breathing?

 

There was a tube in his mouth, maybe. He was intubated, but Shirabu couldn’t hear the steady hiss of the ventilator. In fact, Shirabu couldn’t hear anything except for the persistent ringing that stained the inside of his ears. He felt his chest constrict with pain, rising and falling as the ventilator pushed oxygen in and out of his lungs. Whatever happened, there was massive swelling and bruising around his sternum—which meant he’d probably gone into V-fib, and had had CPR. 

So maybe he was dead, his heart had stopped for a little, at least.

Or maybe he was brain dead—gorked. Shirabu always did wonder if people who lose most activity in their brain could still feel, hear, or smell. 

 

But then the blinding white light gave way to shapes and colors, and soon enough Shirabu recognized an ICU room. It was morning, probably, judging by the way interns dragged themselves around the halls, and nurses filtered in and out, handing each other coffee as they usually did. He couldn’t move his head at all; it hurt too much, but bits and pieces of the previous day were filling into his mind as he accounted for every specific part of him that was in pain. The task was especially difficult considering the fact that everything hurt.

 

The side of his rib cage ached, and in certain places, it stung. Shirabu remembered the feeling of his lungs were caving in, constricting every breath of oxygen out of his body, and then his mentor, cutting into his side and shoving a tube up into his lung cavity to release pressure. That had hurt a lot. Shirabu’s shoulder throbbed, triggering the memory of the sharp snap it must have made when it was reset. It hurt so bad Shirabu, temporarily deaf, could clearly imagine exactly what kind of horrifying sound his bone would make as Dr. Bokuto snapped it back into place. His face felt like it was twice it’s size, probably painted with ugly shades of bruise running along his cheekbones and up his temple. And his head—jesus christ it hurt so badly—like someone had placed an expanding balloon inside his brain and it was just threatening to pop at any moment. 

Had be had brain surgery?

A sharp stinging that ran up his stomach—Shirabu guessed he had been taken to the OR, and faintly remembered being pushed out of the trauma room and into an OR. But between that... ah. Semi. 

Shirabu remembered Semi crying, saying incoherent words as he clutched Shirabu’s hand. Shirabu remembered how scared he was, and how it all dissipated for just a moment while Semi kissed him gently on the forehead. 

Right. He was the only personShirabu truly wanted to see at that moment. He stirred, wincing as he opened his eyes a bit more, regaining some sense in his fingers and eventually hands. Everything was still blurry, his eyes were probably barely open, but Shirabu noticed when an intern walked in, clutching a clipboard and hooking scans up to a board against the wall. Shirabu strained to see the scans—he knew they were his—but he couldn’t even see well enough to recognize the intern. Shirabu wanted to see his CT, and his X-Rays, and his MRI. He wanted to know all of it, even if it was bad.

The intern must have noticed that Shirabu was conscious—sort of—because her eyes lit up, and she scrambled over to his side. 

She yelled something, which was probably along the lines of, “page Dr. Oikawa.” 

She might have added Drs. Yaku and Kuroo too, but she had turned away from Shirabu. 

 

_No. Page Semi. I want Semi Eita here._

 

—————————————-

 

Semi had fallen asleep in the horribly uncomfortable chair that sat in the ICU room. The chairs were covered with ugly scratchy material, and were exceptionally hard enough to make someone’s back ache after a few hours. Normally, patient loved ones weren’t allowed to spend the night in the ICU, but Semi worked at this hospital, so nobody was going to tell him he couldn’t stay by Shirabu’s side. 

 

His head resting on the edge of the slightly elevated ICU bed, Semi must have dozed off, somehow managing to sleep for a few hours straight. He’s been woken by the obnoxiously loud intern who bulldozed her way into the room and almost immediately started yelling for the attendings on Shirabu’s case. 

 

“Someone page Dr. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Yaku please!” She yelled from the opposite side of the bed. 

Startled at first, Semi quickly gained sense of what was happening and instantly scrambled out of the chair.

 

Shirabu’s dark brown eyes began to open. Barely. They were dazed and groggy, heavily lidded from the large doses of pain medications and residual effects of anesthesia, but they were open. Semi couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

 

“Hey,” Semi said, brushing his hand gently through Shirabu’s hair, as the resident slowly turned his head as much as the intubation would allow. He felt the hot tears well up in his eyes, quickly wiping them away with the back of his hand. “Welcome back.”

 

Shirabu’s bruises told a story—deep shades of purple and red and black stained his skin like wine on a tablecloth—but his scans told another story. He’d had a splenectomy done due to excessive bleeding in his abdomen, his shoulder had been badly dislocated and was planned to be properly reset in another surgery. The CT was clear, meaning he had no brain bleeds, but there was evidence of a moderately severe concussion.

 

Oikawa came in anyways. He was concerned about the concussion Shirabu had suffered. 

 

“If he had hit his head one more time, or maybe just a little harder, there would be a hematoma,” Oikawa said, shining his light pen into Shirabu’s eyes to check for equal and responsive pupils. Shirabu followed directions when Oikawa stuck a finger in front of his face the way every doctor asked their patients to do every day, following the finger with his eyes and squeezing them with his own hands. Semi couldn’t stop himself from following along with the protocol in his head. “Good,” Oikawa mumbled. “Only one more thing to check—“

 

Oikawa slipped his light pen into his lab coat pocket and tapped on the side of his head—his ears. Shirabu didn’t respond. 

“Kenjiro I need you to let me know if you can hear me,” Oikawa said, snapping his fingers near the sides of his patient’s head. Still nothing.

 

“Oh god,” Semi breathed, sliding a hand over his mouth. Losing his hearing would mean the end of Shirabu’s surgical career, and to Shirabu, that would be worse than death. 

 

“Dr. Semi you know just as well as I do that this could very well be temporary. Let’s not panic until we have to.”

 

Of course he knew. But Semi was scared anyways. “We should run more scans.”

 

“We should,” Oikawa said, scribbling in a chart, “and I will, because I’m his doctor and you’re the loved one Dr. Semi. I know you’re scared but they always are. He’s going to be okay.”

 

“I know, sorry.”

And Semi was, he knew what a pain the families of his patients could be, asking questions and trying to suggest fixes they discovered on the internet that would never work. They were just scared. It was probably even worse when the loved ones knew what they were talking about. Shirabu couldn’t have asked for better doctors; he had the heads of almost every department on his case. Some of them with more awards than any surgeon could even dream of winning. The whole hospital cared a lot about him. 

 

“Were you going to tell me that he’s awake?” Yaku said, sliding into the room and scooting next to Oikawa so that he could take a look at his patient. 

 

“Sorry, all of my residents have been pretty out of it since last night, especially Yahaba, I can’t get him to go home. They probably forgot to page you,” Oikawa mumbled.

 

“Yeah well, something horrible happened to someone close to them in the building they all practically live at. They’re allowed to be ‘out of it’,” Yaku said, taking out a stethoscope and pressing it against Shirabu’s chest. He pulled down the hospital bed sheets so he could examine the surgical scar that ran down Shirabu’s stomach. No signs of infection. Yaku looked up at Shirabu. 

“Wow the drugs really did a number on you, Shirabu,” Yaku chuckled.

 

“He still hasn’t regained any of his hearing,” Semi said, his voice heavy. 

 

“Oh. Well it’s still early.” The general surgeon pulled the sheets back up and sighed. “I think we should try extubating though, now that he’s awake, if he can breathe on his own not having a tube down his throat should help too.”

Yaku hung his stethoscope back around his neck and started to unhook the tube that ran down Shirabu’s throat. “Let’s sit him up more, and keep an eye on the pulse-ox, if it drops then we’ll know it’s too early.”

 

Shirabu coughed as Yaku pulled the tube from his throat, taking deep, ragged breaths as he was finally allowed to breath on his own. The pulse-ox on the screen held steady. Semi grinned as he reached for Shirabu’s hand, relieved that he was awake and able to squeeze Semi’s hand back. He looked a lot more alive when he wasn’t relying on a machine to breathe, and even had enough mobility to 

turn his head and look at Semi—and smile, eyes groggy and mouth weak, but still a smile.

 

Dr. Kuroo entered the ICU room as Dr. Oikawa left, probably to go tell Dr. Yahaba his friend was awake and relatively responsive. Semi might not be a huge fan of Kuroo’s snarky personality, but he was a brilliant surgeon, and Semi wouldn’t argue with results. 

“Got him on the good stuff huh?” Kuroo said, “well thankfully there aren’t any underlying fractures that need repairing, so you’ll have that pretty face back to normal in a few weeks.”

Semi rolled his eyes.

“His trachea doesn’t seem to be too damaged either, so when the swelling on his neck goes down a little more, he should be able to talk. I’d give it a day or two.” 

 

Shirabu pulled his uninjured arm up from Semi’s hand and pointed to his ear. He knew they were talking about him, and if Oikawa ruled out brain damage as the cause of his hearing loss, then Kuroo, the plastic surgeon and ENT, would be the one to ask.

 

“Right. As for your hearing, I haven’t found any physical damage to the eardrum, and if Oikawa doesn’t suspect neurological deficits, it’s possible it’s just an impact thing, maybe shock. It should come back soon enough,” Kuroo said to Semi and Yaku. He turned and pulled a whiteboard from the nurses’ station outside the room, scribbling down what he had to say and turning it so Shirabu could see. He nodded, reaching back down to take Semi’s hand again.

 

“Bokuto should be over in a few to take a look at his shoulder,” Yaku said, ushering himself and Kuroo out of the room.

 

They were alone in the ICU again, no sounds but the steady rhythm of the heart monitor and an occasional conversation at the nurses’ station. Semi was still shaken, gently grasping onto Shirabu’s thin hand as if he’d slip away again—he couldn’t let go, just the thought of seeing him hooked up to machines, barely breathing on his own, made Semi’s stomach twist. 

Semi reached behind him onto a small table and grabbed the whiteboard, hastily uncapping it and scribbling his words in his messy handwriting. 

 

**_You scared me._ **

 

Shirabu leaned his head to the side and gazed into Semi’s teary charcoal eyes, he leaned over as much as he could and slid his hand along Semi’s jawline, his fingers grazing over his pale damp cheeks. Gently, Shirabu guided Semi to lean down and pressed his lips against his. It said more than enough:  _I’m sorry for worrying you, thank you for being here, and I love you _ all at the same time .  It felt good, kissing Shirabu again, the knot in his stomach finally settling down; it felt real, reminding Semi that he wasn’t just in some fantasy. Shirabu’s soft lips, even his split bottom lip, were so real, so comforting—Semi felt much better. 

 

When they parted, Semi pressed his forehead against Shirabu’s, holding Shirabu’s face in his own hands. It was quiet, but intimate, he felt the warmth from Shirabu’s forehead and was reminded that they both were very much alive. Semi couldn’t bear to think about what he would do if Shirabu hadn’t made it out of the surgery.

 

 

Shirabu wiped the tears away from Semi’s cheeks with his thumb and leaned back into the ICU bed. From the doorway, Semi heard someone loudly clear their throat, and he turned to see Tendou standing in the sliding doorway with one fiery red eyebrow raised, his lips pursed in a way that hid the curve in his mouth. 

Turning his head, Semi’s hand dropped back down to Shirabu’s, and leaned back into the chair. 

 

“I told you he would make it,” Tendou said, waltzing casually into the room, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his white lab coat. “You should have trusted me and my genius intuition, SemiSemi.”

 

“Right...” Semi said as Tendou pulled his stethoscope from around his neck and pressed it to Shirabu’s ribs; except the sandy-haired resident swatted Tendou’s hands away from his ribs. Shirabu pulled the whiteboard from Semi’s hands, quickly scribbled something down, and held it up to his taken aback teacher.

 

_** Cardiac Workup is clear. ** _

 

“Is that so?” Tendou smirked, “and can I ask  _ who  _ cleared your cardiac workup? You are a trauma patient after all, you need the complete rundown from several departments.”

 

“He still hasn’t regained any hearing yet.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Tendou said, moving to the end of the bed and flipping a chart open. His tone kept the usual snark and tease, but Semi noticed how Tendou’s face darkened. It was pretty bad, Semi knew that much; he had spent hours obsessively looking over the post-op scans, surgical notes, and blood tests, searching for something they missed. “Did Dr. Bokuto come in and look at his shoulder?”

 

“Not yet, he was paged but apparently there was a trauma in the ER,” Semi said, the air was thick with the threats that Shirabu’s swollen shoulder held. Even Shirabu frowned, when Tendou walked back to the side of the bed and held the cold stethoscope to Shirabu’s shoulder, pulling the hospital gown and bandages aside. 

 

“Well I’m going to get him. Nasty dislocation—the blood flow to his shoulder is a little compromised and there’s no way in hell I’m letting these brilliant hands, and all of the work I’ve put into them, go down the drain.” Tendou flung his stethoscope back over his shoulder and sighed. 

 

“I didn’t tell him about all of the fellowship offers he’s got,” Tendou said, his voice soft. “He’s not even a fifth year resident and he’s already got hospitals falling over themselves for him. He could go anywhere in the world for a cardio fellowship and I don’t know if my program at this hospital can compete. So I haven’t told him because the Chief doesn’t like tell residents about offers until they’re fifth years—especially the good ones.” Tendou almost laughed, running his long, thin fingers through his red hair.“He almost died before he could become a fifth year and have every hospital in the country kissing his feet.”

Tendou sighed again, spinning on his heels to go bother Dr. Bokuto about his resident’s shoulder. Semi watched him go down the hallway before turning out the door. 

 

Shirabu still looked slightly groggy from the drugs, rightfully, with the injuries he sustained the amount of pain he would be in without them is unimaginable. The drugs also meant that Shirabu would most likely fall back asleep before long; so, when he slid over to the side of the hospital bed and tugged on Semi’s sleeve, the other slid into the bed as well. Semi reached his arm around Shirabu, who rested his head on Semi’s chest. 

 

Shirabu fell asleep, his head lolling to the side and laying on Semi’s shoulder; except Semi couldn’t sleep, so he just lay there, gently running his fingers through Shirabu’s silky hair. He couldn’t stop thinking about the absence of Shirabu’s weight on his chest, of the smell of his hair and skin, and the feel of his gentle breath on Semi’s neck. They had only been together for a short amount of time, yet Semi couldn’t imagine anything else. It was strange—Semi wasn’t the type to get involved in a relationship right off the bat. Semi desperately wanted everything to go back to normal, when Shirabu was healthy, smart-mouthed, and working his magic in an operating room. 

 

Eventually two doctors came into the room, one was tall with broad shoulders and wild, two-toned hair, wearing navy blue scrubs underneath his lab coat. The other doctor was much more alarming to Semi, despite his smaller stature compared to the other doctor. This surgeon had tan skin, short, dark brown hair and dark eyes. He wore a dress-shirt and black tie underneath his lab coat—the coat that read, 

_ Daichi Sawamura _

_ Chief of Surgery _

 

“There’s an OR ready for his shoulder realignment,” Dr. Bokuto said when Semi raised his head. “We’re going to start prepping him now.”

 

When Semi slid out of the hospital bed, Shirabu woke and realized what must be happening. He sat upright, pulling himself up with one arm, and nodded to Dr. Bokuto. The surgery may not be a very complicated one, but Shirabu’s entire career rested in the hands of the best orthopedic surgeon in the area. If the nerves or the blood flow are damaged in anyway, Shirabu would lose complete function of his entire arm. That could be the end of his surgical career. Semi couldn’t think about that and neither could Shirabu. It had to be done. 

 

So after a brief, second goodbye, Semi watched the nurses take Shirabu out of the ICU room.

The Chief of Surgery stayed behind. He was silent for a minute, letting Semi awkwardly avoid eye contact for a while before he spoke. His voice was softer than it normally was when he was pissed off, however Semi still knew he was about to get scolded.

 

“He’s a resident,” Chief Daichi said, crossing his arms and leaning back into the doorframe. “You’re an attending.”

 

Semi didn’t answer. Nobody could actually stop him from being with Shirabu, but there was one man who could stop him from being a surgeon. Semi wasn’t very thrilled about the thought of risking his career, Shirabu’s too. If anyone had to take the fall, Semi would volunteer himself; Shirabu was still a resident who needed to finish out said residency at this hospital with his mentor and every other brilliant surgeon there. Semi was well known around most of the country, he could find a job almost anywhere. 

 

“You going to fire me?” Semi asked. His mind was still trying to catch up with everything that’s happened; he was kind of a mess. 

 

“No,” Daichi said. “As long as the relationship doesn’t interfere with anyone’s job, and I’m informed of it, I don’t care—that’s the rule for everyone. I’m just saying, he’s a resident.”

 

Semi knew what that meant. He knew there was a possibility that Shirabu may chose a fellowship at another hospital, in another region of the country. Daichi warned him. 

Whatever. Semi didn’t want to think about that right now.

 

“I know,” Semi said, his voice still breathless and shaky. 

Daichi nodded and spun around, walking out the door. He had enough on his mind—one of his surgical residents was attacked in his hospital. Daichi was the chief and yet he was still bemused over the fact that it happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you liked it.   
> Please let me know what you think in the comments, or just ask me a question. Hearing from everyone really makes me happy.   
> If you’d like to know more about any other characters in this AU please ask questions in the comments below.   
> I hope your day is fantastic!


End file.
